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The Right Reverend William Paret, D.D. 
Sixth Bishop of Maryland 



LL.D., 



REMINISCENCES 



BY THE 

Rt. Rev. WILLIAM PARET, D.D., LL.D. 

SIXTH BISHOP OF MARYLAND 




PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 

PUBLISHERS 



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Copyright, 1911, by 
George W. Jacobs & Co. 

Published May, 1911. 



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CI.A2S9140 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

These "Eemembrances" are written, not with 
any wish for their being published, — but at the 
earnest request of my children, and of a few 
dear friends. I have tried to state facts only, 
very plainly, avoiding as far as possible any 
expression of my own opinions. 



PREFACE 

In a conversation with Bishop Paret a few 
days before his departure on a trip abroad 
in the autumn of 1909, I suggested that he 
write for publication a book of " Reminis- 
cences" during his vacation. He demurred 
on the ground that while such a book would 
undoubtedly be a source of pleasure and 
gratification to his immediate family and 
intimate friends, he feared it might not be 
of commensurate profit to others. I in- 
sisted, but he would make no definite prom- 
ise. During his sojourn at Nice, France, he 
wrote me that he had begun the book, and I 
wrote him renewing my request and empha- 
sizing it as follows: "I do not agree with 
you that these Reminiscences should not be 
prepared for public use. As I have before 
told you, in my judgment they would not 
only accomplish a great deal of good, but 
would, also, constitute a very important part 



vi PEBFAOE 

of the history of the Church in the Diocese 
of Maryland. This is not only my view, but 
the view of many Churchmen in the Diocese 
whose judgment you are accustomed to re- 
spect in all other affairs ;and sol hope that in 
the work you are now doing upon these Rem- 
iniscences you will have in mind at least as 
their ultimate end, publication for general 
use ... as a matter of self -protection 
you should consider this view of the case, 
because, as you know, if work of this kind 
is not done by a man himself whose life and 
labor have been such as yours, an attempt 
at it is made by someone else, with a result 
that is generally disastrous, and frequently 
humiliating.' ' 

This letter was not without effect, and 
upon his return he placed the manuscript in 
my hands, saying: "I have complied with 
your wish, and found great gratification in 
the exercise it afforded me. Here is what I 
have written. It is purely from memory. 
Bead it at your convenience, and make such 
use of it as you may determine. If you 
should decide to publish it you will do well to 
have it edited to the extent of verifying 



PREFACE vii 

dates, amounts and other more minute par- 
ticulars.' ' 

Upon reading the manuscript I found it 
so characteristically natural, so pleasing and 
profitable withal, and containing so many 
things of personal and historical significance 
to the Diocese of Maryland, that I decided 
to publish it with only the necessary revi- 
sion. "What of the latter has been done is 
the work of the Bishop's grand-daughter, 
Miss Emily Paret Atwater, who served him 
in the capacity of private secretary for 
many years, and whose confidential inti- 
macy with the Bishop, and perfect knowl- 
edge of all his affairs, personal and official, 
peculiarly fitted her for the task she has 
most lovingly and loyally performed. 

The influence of the life and labor of 
Bishop Paret will be felt in the work of the 
Church in the Diocese of Maryland for all 
time. My desire is that his memory shall 
live commensurate with his influence. This 
book, which is a living epistle of the man, is 
published with the hope that it will find its 
way into every household among us, and be 
the medium of transmitting to our children, 



viii PKEFACE 

and to our children's children, not only the 
name, but, also, something of the wisdom 
and worth of William Paret, the sixth 
Bishop of Maryland. 

John G. Murray, 
Bishop of Maryland. 

Baltimore, Md., March, 1911. 



CONTENTS 

OHAPTEB PAGE 

Author's Preface iii 

Preface v 

Introduction xi 

I Early Days and School-Life .... 1 
II From the Twelfth to the Twentieth 

Year 13 

III From the Twentieth Year — College, 

Ordination, My FmsT Parish ... 27 

IV My Life at Pierrepont Manor ... 47 
V From 1864 to 1869 77 

VI Rectorship at Christ's Church, Wil- 

liamsport, Penna., 1868-1876 ... 95 

VII From 1876 to 1885 at Washington . . 105 

VIII As Bishop of Maryland 133 

IX The Division of the Diocese .... 151 

X The Division of the Diocese (continued) 157 

XI The Church's Work for the Masses . 165 

XII The Maryland Theological Class . . 171 

XIII At the Lambeth Conferences . . . 181 

XIV Some Things Accomplished .... 195 



INTRODUCTION 

In sending out these "Reminiscences" of 
Bishop Paret to the public, a few explan- 
atory words may not be out of place. Hav- 
ing been associated since childhood with my 
grandfather as his private secretary, and 
having had some share in the "earnest re- 
quest" for the writing of the Reminiscences, 
the task of editing them was, after his death, 
entrusted to me. It was a task reverently 
accepted, and, I hope, completed with im- 
partiality as well as care. 

Although most of the incidents related 
have long been familiar to me in the form 
in which they are given, still, recognizing 
that the book was written entirely from 
memory, I have tried to verify them, in so 
far as possible. In many cases, and par- 
ticularly with regard to his early life and 
work, this was, of course, impracticable, and 
should an occasional misstatement be de- 
tected, I can but crave the reader's indul- 



xii INTRODUCTION 

gence by calling attention to the Author's 
Preface in which he states that these "Re- 
membrances" were not written primarily 
with a view to publication. 

The work was begun and finished during 
the year that Bishop Paret spent abroad, 
following the consecration of his coadjutor 
(1909-10), and the manuscript was written 
out entirely by hand in that clear and beauti- 
ful chirography so familiar to his corre- 
spondents. 

Although this trip was taken at his ex- 
press wish, and largely for his own benefit, 
he soon grew homesick for his diocese, his 
people, and for his daily office routine. Too 
infirm for much sight-seeing, time hung 
heavy on his hands, and so it was that the 
writing of his Reminiscences, although un- 
dertaken with reluctance, soon became of 
absorbing interest to him. Far from home, 
with no books or papers of any kind for ref- 
erence, these Eeminiscences of a man eighty- 
four years of age are remarkable for their 
clearness, conciseness and faithfulness to the 
smallest detail. Conversational in tone, yet 
pastoral rather than personal, they furnish 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

a far better portrait of the author, both as a 
man and a priest, than any words of another, 
no matter how laudatory they might be. 

This pastoral rather than personal char- 
acter of the book accounts for the omission 
of much concerning his family life. The 
few such incidents mentioned relate more to 
his ministry than to his home. Yet none 
who knew him, — those nearest to him least 
of all, — could doubt the deep tenderness that 
lay beneath his quiet, and often reserved, ex- 
terior for the members of that home-circle. 
What he has seen fit not to dwell upon, in the 
more intimate relations of life, could not 
with propriety be supplied by another hand, 
and, save for a few brief notes, I have en- 
deavored to respect his silence. 

It is less easy to explain the absence of 
any but the slightest allusion to the meetings 
of the General Convention. It seems prob- 
able that Bishop Paret may have intended 
to give a more accurate and comprehensive 
account of the deliberations and legislation 
of this Body, with which he was so long and 
so closely associated, than could have been 
done from memory, and so left the whole 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

subject practically untouched until his re- 
turn home. 

But that home coming was to be a very 
sad one, and any additions to the Reminis- 
cences that he may have planned were never 
made. Mrs. Paret's health had begun to 
fail in the preceding summer, and soon after 
their return to Baltimore, in September, 
1910, she was taken to the Johns Hopkins 
Hospital, where she passed to her rest on 
the 15th of January, 1911. 

The illness and suffering of his devoted 
wife cast a cloud over her husband's life that 
was not to be lifted. Leaving the more ar- 
duous part of his work to him whom he so 
affectionately calls his " Brother Bishop,' ' — 
he resumed some of his official duties, and, 
in the hope of diversion, spent many hours at 
his desk. But his anxiety told on his 
health, an attack of la grippe developed into 
pneumonia, and without knowing that his 
beloved wife had two days before preceded 
him, — he entered upon his reward January 
18th, 1911, in the 84th year of his age, and 
the 26th year of his Episcopate. His clear 
and vigorous mind remained unclouded to 



INTRODUCTION xv 

the last, and the sense of humor, so strongly 
discernible in the Reminiscences, never de- 
serted him. Almost his last conscious act 
was a participation in the Holy Communion ; 
and death found him calm and unafraid. 
To him the words of St. Paul seem pecul- 
iarly fitting: "I have fought a good fight, I 
have finished my course, I have kept the 
Faith.' ' 

In concluding, the editor wishes to ex- 
press her grateful appreciation for much 
valuable assistance given in the editing of 
the Reminiscences by the Rt. Rev. John GL 
Murray, D.D., Bishop of Maryland, the late 
Rev. Dr. Eccleston, one or two others of the 
clergy of Maryland, and to Mr. Lawrence C. 
Wroth, Librarian of the Maryland Diocesan 
Library. 

Emily Paret Atwater. 

Baltimore, Md., March, 1911. 



EARLY DAYS AND SCHOOL-LIFE 



REMINISCENCES 

CHAPTER I 

EARLY DAYS AND SCHOOL-LIFE 

I was born in the City of New York on the 
23rd day of September, 1826. 

My grandfather was Stephen Paret, from 
France, the hamlet of Latour near Serillac, 
in the department of Correze in France. 
He left his home as a soldier in the French 
Army, — serving for a time in South Amer- 
ica, — but after his service found his way to 
New York City where he became a success- 
ful merchant. 

His son, John Paret, was my father. 

My mother's maiden name was Hester 
Levi. Of her ancestry, I know only that she 
was of Jewish origin. 

The -home of my parents was on Green- 
wich Street (No. 221), near Barclay Street. 
It is now all given up to business, chiefly 



2 REMINISCENCES 

wholesale, but was then a place of pleasant 
family homes. 

Though not the eldest born, the death of 
an older brother made me, while yet in early 
childhood, the oldest living son in a family 
of twelve children. Remembrances of those 
earliest days are very few and indistinct. 
One incident comes back vividly. When I 
was about four years old, before I had been 
to school, or had received any lessons, my 
mother found me one day, seated on the 
floor, with a book in my lap and my hands. 
To her question, — "What are you doing, 
William?" I answered, "I am reading." 
" Nonsense, child," she said, "you can't 
read; let me see if your book is not upside 
down." But it proved to be right side up. 
"What book is it?" was her next question; 
and I gave the name rightly. Amazed, she 
asked, "Do you really mean that you can 
read ? Let me hear you read on that page. ' ' 
And I read, where she pointed, several lines, 
clearly and distinctly. It always remained 
to her and to the others a problem of won- 
der, how I learned my letters and the use of 
words. But I am quite confident that I have 



REMINISCENCES 3 

the explanation. My two sisters, one of 
them two years, and one five years older 
than myself, were in the habit of studying 
their lessons in the large room where I was 
free to stay and play. The younger sister 
was just learning to read ; and I think that 
by watching and listening I must have 
caught unconsciously much that they were 
getting by careful labor; and my love for 
reading and books became strong. 

My father had an excellent, though small, 
collection of books; and before I was ten 
years of age I had gone through almost all 
of them. At eleven years I had read all of 
Shakespeare, Anquetil's Universal History 
in seven volumes, much of Byron, much of 
Scott, and was able to repeat, from memory, 
the "Lady of the Lake" from beginning to 
end. This love of books and reading never 
left me. It had much to do in determining 
the course of my after life. 

When little more than six years old, I was 
sent to a boarding school in Connecticut, at 
South Farms, about four miles from Litch- 
field. There were no railroads in that di- 
rection ; and I remember well the very slow 



4 EEMINISCENCES 

journeys in the clumsy small steamboat to 
Bridgeport or Norwalk, whence we took an 
old-fashioned stage coach, hung on straps 
and swinging wildly. It was almost or quite 
an all day's ride. The master of the school 
was Mr. Samuel M. Ensign. Just across 
the green was the Congregational Meeting 
House (they did not call it church), where 
we all had to go on Sundays under charge of 
Miss Ensign, the Master's sister. Of the 
worship or the preaching I can remember 
nothing. But I well remember the dreary 
coldness; for there were no stoves or 
fires in the church. We carried two or 
three little foot-warmers containing ashes 
and coals, one for Miss Ensign, and two for 
the boys to use in turn. And to keep us 
awake and out of mischief she occasionally 
passed around cookies and fennel seeds. 

By the old-fashioned reckoning of those 
days, each day began not in the morning, 
but at sunset. The Master's father (old 
man Ensign, we called him) would take his 
chair on the green before the house, on Sat- 
urday evening about fifteen minutes before 
sunset; and while we were at our free and 



EBMINISOENOES 5 

noisy games lie was watching the sun. Pres- 
ently he would give warning, " Almost sun- 
set;'' but we played on, until in a loud, clear 
voice he shouted, " Sundown!" and instantly 
play stopped, noise gave way to stillness, and 
Saturday faded suddenly into Sunday. 

The order was reversed the next evening ; 
again "old man Ensign" was in his chair on 
the green. The boys, not daring to be 
noisy, gathered around him, eager for their 
freedom. "Sundown yet?" we would ask, 
and his answer would be "not quite;" till 
at last, as we watched, he gave the word, 
"Sundown," and with our yells and shouts 
of play, Sunday broke instantly into Mon- 
day. 

Of the incidents of school life I have re- 
tained very few. I was there in the year 
1833, at the time of the great shower of 
"Shooting Stars." The people of the 
neighborhood thought that the last day had 
come; and our schoolmaster shared that 
thought, so we were all waked out of sleep 
and taken into the larger room for a prayer 
meeting of half an hour. Another incident 
was strongly fixed in my mind by ten weeks 



6 REMINISCENCES 

of childhood's suffering. We had ginger 
cookies, one apiece, on Sundays only. My 
cousin, John Dunkin, at school with me, had 
found and taken a robin's nest with four 
young birds. I bought one of the birds, 
promising to pay ten cookies, one each Sun- 
day. Alas ! in three days my bird was dead, 
but John remorselessly insisted on full pay- 
ment. So for ten weeks I had to pocket my 
cookie at the table and carry it out and 
watch while he ate it without giving me a 
crumb. 

I have a memorial of those school days in 
a letter written from school to my mother, 
when I was about eight years old. She care- 
fully kept it, and gave it to me some fifty 
years later. It was as follows : 

"Dear Mother, — 

"Your kind letter with one to Mrs. En- 
sign was duly received from which I was 
pleased to hear that my dear parents brother 
and sisters were alive and well. When I 
think of you I feel sorry for John who can 
never again see his parents or receive from 
them their kind embraces. I am studying 



REMINISCENCES 7 

History from which I learn that it is a nar- 
rative of the events which have taken place 
in the world it sets before us striking in- 
stances of virtue heroism and patriotism it 
opens the hidden springs of human affairs 
and by the principle of emulation it incites 
us to copy such noble examples by present- 
ing us with the vicious ultimately overtaken 
and punished for their crimes it also has an 
important connection with Theology which 
teaches the perfections of God and the duty 
which we owe to him. I would write more if 
I could but I have not any time. Mr. En- 
sign told me to tell you that I have wrote 12 
letters but he would not let any of them go 
because they were blotted I remain 

"Your Affectionate 

' ' Son William Paret. ' ' 

It was evidently not entirely original. I 
do not think it was dictated to me, but prob- 
ably giving the substance of something 
fresh in my mind from some book I was 
studying. 

I do not think I could have remained at 
that school more than two years ; because at 



8 REMINISCENCES 

nine or ten, I was again in New York City, 
attending the Grammar School of Columbia 
College on Murray Street. There I completed 
the full English and French course, but did 
not take Latin or Greek, it being my father's 
purpose to put me into business life as soon 
as possible. Among the teachers I remem- 
ber most kindly Prof. Henry Drisler who 
afterwards became a famous scholar; and 
very unkindly, Prof. Charles Anthon, then 
Professor of Latin and Greek in the Col- 
lege. He taught us not mentally, but phys- 
ically, in his use of the rattan. 

During those Grammar School days my 
relations with my father were very helpful 
and pleasant. He was an enthusiastic fish- 
erman, and had his private boathouse on the 
wharf at or near the foot of Barclay Street. 
Every pleasant Saturday, or other day free 
from school, he would take me with him for 
a fishing trip in or near the harbor ; at Ellis 's 
Island or Governor's Island, or Bobbin's 
Reef or the Kill von Kull ; and so began the 
love for fishing which clung to me all my 
life. But it was not in fishing only that we 
were brought close. As I was one evening 



BEMINISCENOBS 9 

reading the daily paper, I turned to him and 
asked, "Father, what does the inside of a 
theater look like ? " " What a question ! ' ' he 
answered. ' ' Don 't you know % " " Certainly 
not," I said, "I have never been in a the- 
ater. " A few days after, on my coming 
from school, my mother told me to put on 
my Sunday clothes, because my father 
wanted me to go out with him in the even- 
ing. And he took me to the famous Park 
Theater for my first enjoyment of that kind. 
It was an unusual occasion, the benefit of 
one of the most popular actors ; and as such 
it had gathered all the theatrical celebrities ; 
Macready, Charlotte Cushman, Placide, the 
Burtons and others. The chief play was 
" Hamlet.' ' On our way home my father 
asked whether I understood and enjoyed it. 
"Yes, greatly," I answered, "I had read it 
several times, but never so well understood it, 
as I do now. " " Well, ' ' he said, ' ' if you will 
promise that until you are twenty years old, 
you will not go to a theater without my 
knowledge and consent, I promise that when- 
ever you want to go, I will go with you, un- 
less there should be some strong reason to the 



10 REMINISCENCES 

contrary." That promise was kept, and it 
saved me from what might have been low and 
harmful, and cultivated my taste for higher 
and better things. And from this and other 
things I learned from him the principle 
which I afterwards followed with my own 
sons; keeping them near me by sympathy 
and participation in their enjoyments. 

When I was a boy the city covered but a 
very small portion of the ground it now oc- 
cupies. Above Tenth Street there were very 
few buildings. At Gramercy Park, now 
below the center, it was all bare fields or 
woods. I remember a Sunday afternoon 
walk with my father and one of his friends. 
We went far out beyond streets and houses, 
and on a hill covered by rocks of mica slate, 
my father said to his friend, "I have bought 
a good sized lot here for one hundred dol- 
lars." "Why, John," said his friend, "I 
did not think you could be so foolish. It will 
never be used. The city will never come so 
far as this." 

"Not in my time," was the answer, "but 
it will be in my children's time, and I have 
bought it for them." 



KEMINISCENCES 11 

This must have been about the year 1835. 
Thirty-one years later, in 1866, my father 
died, leaving all his estate for the use of 
my mother during her life. Some ten years 
after my two brothers, co-executors with me 
wrote that my mother needed larger income 
than she was receiving, and that they had 
an offer of twenty thousand dollars for that 
lot. They asked my consent. The lot was 
sold ; and within three weeks the purchaser 
sold it again for eighty thousand dollars. 
If in the market now, it would be worth 
probably a million, for it is just at the South- 
ern entrance to the Park. 



FEOM THE TWELFTH TO THE 
TWENTIETH YEAB 



CHAPTER II 

FROM THE TWELFTH TO THE TWENTIETH YEAR 

When I was about twelve years old, I was 
taken from school and placed as store-boy 
in a dry goods jobbing house in William 
Street; salary for the first year, nothing; 
for the second year, fifty dollars. I had a 
mile and a half to walk from home, the fam- 
ily having moved to a new home still on 
Greenwich Street, but near the corner of 
Beach Street. My duties were to open and 
sweep out the store very early, save twine 
by tying and rolling it in balls, and help to 
pack and mark goods for shipping. But in 
the second year, because I was found to be 
a good penman, and good at figures, one or 
two of the less important books were en- 
trusted to my keeping, and I was soon pro- 
moted to be assistant bookkeeper. 

In my sixteenth year, my father took me 
as his own assistant bookkeeper, and from 



16 REMINISCENCES 

being assistant I soon became chief. It was 
a place of responsibility, since beside his 
New York house he had branch establish- 
ments in Mobile, and in Columbus, Georgia, 
with a partner in each. 

I am sure that the business experience 
and training thus gained have been of very 
great value to me in all my after life. 

I continued as bookkeeper until almost 
nineteen years of age ; but during those years 
came a great change in my life. In one of 
the summer vacations, I went with my oldest 
sister to visit friends in Palmyra, New York. 
In our company also was one who was called 
my cousin, though really no blood relation ; 
Miss Maria G. Peck, of Flushing, Long Is- 
land, whom three years later I married. 
There being no railroad available beyond 
Syracuse we there took what was called the 
Packet-boat on the Erie Canal; a boat en- 
tirely given up to passengers, and it was 
crowded. There were eating accommoda- 
tions and berths for sleeping, but after the 
berths were filled, mattresses were spread on 
the cabin floor and many of us took our rest 
there. That part of our journey took about 



REMINISCENCES 17 

twenty-four hours and was quite interesting. 
On the Sunday after our arrival, my sis- 
ter, a very strict Presbyterian, said, "We 
will go to the Episcopal Church this morn- 
ing, with our friends, out of respect for 
them." It was my very first glimpse of the 
Church and of the Prayer Book. For 
though living in New York for nearly eight- 
een years, I had never crossed the threshold 
of an Episcopal Church, and had never 
even seen a Prayer Book. My mother, 
being a regular attendant at a Dutch Re- 
formed Church (though not a member of 
it), I had gone with her every Sunday. It 
w r as the most rigid form of Presbyterian 
Calvinism, giving me the idea that as an 
unconverted person I had no part or lot in 
religion. I was an outsider. I must wait 
till I should be converted, and I could do 
nothing to help to that conversion. It was 
all foreordained. When the time came 
which God had fixed for it, if it came at all, 
I should be converted, and I must wait. The 
prayers offered by the minister were all for 
the saints, for those who had been converted, 
not for me. They passed over my head. 



18 REMINISCENCES 

They may have prayed for me, as a sinner, 
but they did not expect me to pray with 
them. 

That first Prayer Book Service was a rev- 
elation to me ; the beginning of my first ear- 
nest religious thoughts. From the first 
sentences, through the Exhortation and Con- 
fession, it was a call not for the saints to 
pray, but for sinners to pray for themselves. 
I said to myself at once, "Why this is wor- 
ship in which I can take part ; worship for 
the sinners even if not yet converted." And 
before that service was ended I was taking 
my part in it heartily. In the evening my 
sister said, "Now we will go to our own 
Church." And I answered, "I am going 
where I went this morning." I never went 
back to the Presbyterian worship. On my 
return to New York I went with my mother 
to the door of the Dutch Reformed Congre- 
gation, and as leaving her I turned away she 
asked in surprise, "Are you not going in?'' 
And I said, "No, Mother, I am going to an 
Episcopal Church." 

Soon came the feeling that I could and 
must do something for my soul's sake ; and I 



REMINISCENCES 19 

began to study the old Puritan Book, Dodd- 
ridge's "Rise and Progress of Religion in 
the Soul." I tried to work myself into the 
feelings there pictured ; the meditations, the 
convictions of almost agonizing despair, at 
last giving place to hopeful raptures. The 
effort was a failure, and in my difficulty I 
sought advice from a clergyman of the 
Church, the Reverend Dr. Haskins of Wil- 
liamsburgh, Long Island, telling him of my 
efforts and my failure to work myself up to 
and through the vivid emotions there de- 
scribed as necessary to a "change of heart." 
And he soon convinced me that the necessity 
was not for the emotions, but for the reality 
of a wish and purpose to serve God. Some 
months later, after careful preparation, on 
Easter day in the year 1844, I was baptized 
in St. Mark's Church, Williamsburgh ; and 
on the same day, there being then no Bishop 
for that diocese, I was, as "ready and desir- 
ous to be confirmed," admitted to my first 
Communion. 

In connection with that baptism and my 
life in the Church, arose the only serious dis- 
agreement between my father and myself. 



20 REMINISCENCES 

Some weeks before the day fixed for my 
Baptism, I told him of my purpose ; and he 
at once and in the strongest manner forbade 
it; declaring that until I should be of full 
age I was under his authority and bound to 
obey. Now my father, as lovable and hon- 
orable a man as I have ever known, had been 
turned strongly away from all religious re- 
lations and worship. He was, what is rarely 
found in these days, a thoughtful and ear- 
nest-minded deist. Believing that God is 
the Father and Creator of all, he stopped 
there, not accepting the Gospel as a Revela- 
tion, nor acknowledging Christ as a Divine 
Redeemer. He long after gave me the rea- 
sons for this position; saying that in his 
early life he had been greatly wrought up in 
the excitement of a great Methodist revival ; 
but when the temporary excitement was 
past, a reaction came. He felt that it was 
all unreal, and in his disappointment he 
turned not only against that particular phase 
of religion, but against all the Christian re- 
ligion which it claimed to represent. He 
had been baptized in his infancy, in the 
Church of Rome, his father and ancestors 



EEMINISCENCES 21 

in France having been all members of that 
Church. But from the time of this unhappy 
revival, until almost the last of his life of 
some seventy-four years, he never attended 
any place of worship, and would not permit 
one of his children to be baptized, or to go to 
Sunday School, while he left them free to go 
to Sunday services with their mother. 

My proposed Baptism was therefore in 
absolute opposition to his wishes, and, his 
prohibition was declared most absolutely. 
I again sought pastoral advice, and was told 
that my duty to God was above my duty to 
my father ; and so I told him. He insisted 
that he must see the clergyman, and they 
had an interview the day before that fixed 
for the service. At the close of their con- 
versation, my father called me before them, 
and said very calmly, " William, you must 
choose between this clergyman and myself. 
You know what I wish, and what I am sure 
I have a right to claim. Which shall it be ? ' ' 
And my answer was, " Father, I must be 
baptized." And I went, feeling that the re- 
lations between my father and myself must 
afterwards be very unhappy. But in this I 



22 EEMINISCENCES 

was mistaken. On my coming home the 
next day everything was as pleasant as if 
there had been no disagreement. And the 
matter was not even mentioned until many 
years after. "When I had been for some 
time a clergyman and had to study such 
cases from the standpoint of a pastor, I 
went voluntarily to my father and told him 
that I knew now I had been badly advised, 
and that my duty would have been to yield 
full obedience to him until I should come to 
full age. But during all the interval his 
confidence and affection for me, instead of 
being diminished, grew stronger. 

Some six months later came a second dif- 
ference of will between us. I was not a 
lover of business. Though an accurate 
bookkeeper I disliked buying and selling. 
My mind turned not only to books, but very 
strongly towards the ministry. I told him 
of my wish to give up business, take a col- 
lege course and become a clergyman. In 
his strong objection to this, there was none 
of the arbitrariness he had before shown; 
only reasoning and persuasion. He told 
me of his wish and plans that I should be 



EEMINISCENCES 23 

with him in business ; that he would take me 
into partnership so soon as I should be of 
age. And he asked me to consider it a 
month before deciding. At the end of the 
month I told him my purpose was not 
changed. He then offered to give me one of 
his southern business establishments, or to 
give me, and sustain me in, a large planta- 
tion which he owned in the State of Georgia, 
and asked me to take another month's con- 
sideration. I did so, but did not change my 
own plans. He yielded pleasantly, saying 
he could not let me go till I had brought in 
my next younger brother, Henry, and had 
trained him to be ready to take my place. 
After that he would provide all my expenses 
through College, and until my ordination, 
"but after that," said he, "you know I can- 
not continue to help." 

My mother also advised me not to seek to 
be a clergyman, urging that I was entirely 
unfit for it ; that my health was too poor, — 
my voice so bad that I could never be a good 
speaker, — and that I had an ungovernable 
temper. In all which respects I think the 
results have shown that she was mistaken. 



24 REMINISCENCES 

It took several months to get my brother 
used to his new position and work; after 
which I was free to make my own plans. It 
was thought better that instead of remain- 
ing in the city and taking the course at Co- 
lumbia College, I should go away from home ; 
and I chose Hobart College at Geneva, New 
York, as having three advantages. It was a 
Church college, a small one, and in a very 
pleasant and healthful place. But the work 
of preparing for it, since I had no Latin or 
Greek, was a serious matter. 

Taking a third story room which I had 
to myself in my father's house, I engaged a 
tutor, the Reverend James Millet, 1 a 
graduate of the University of Dublin, and 
an excellent scholar, to give me private les- 
sons. He came every day for twelve days 
for lessons of an hour and a half each. He 
was a good teacher for just such work, and 
I was a diligent and determined student, 
and made great progress. After the twelfth 
lesson I dismissed the tutor and studied by 
myself. This began in February, 1846. I 

iThe Rev. James Millet, rector of the Chure-h of the Holy- 
Martyrs, New York. 



REMINISCENCES 25 

began my day's work very early, had two 
hours of study before breakfast, an hour's 
walk for exercise, study again until lunch at 
half past twelve, another hour's walk, and 
study till seven; some ten hours a day of 
solid study. But my heart was in it ; and to 
my own amazement I found that in eight 
months I had not only fully prepared for 
entrance, but had read also all the course of 
the Freshman year. In September I pre- 
sented myself for examination, passed, and 
took my place as a Sophomore. 

One advantage of the method I followed, 
of depending on myself, was that I was more 
thoroughly grounded than any of my class- 
mates, and early kept the lead. 



FROM THE TWENTIETH YEAR- 
COLLEGE, ORDINATION, MY 
FIRST PARISH 



CHAPTER III 

FROM THE TWENTIETH YEAR — COLLEGE, ORDI- 
NATION, MY FIRST PARISH 

The life at college was a very pleasant 
one, yet very strict. We had to rise early, 
go to chapel at six, have an hour's recitation 
and were then free for breakfast, &c, till 
nine o 'clock. There was no arrangement for 
eating at the college, and I had to walk a 
mile and back for every meal. Then came 
study in our rooms from nine to eleven, rec- 
itation till twelve, and freedom till two; 
study and recitation till five, then tea and 
freedom till seven, when we were expected 
to be in our rooms for study and enjoyment 
and sleep. But after a good hour's study, 
the rest of the evening was generally given to 
visits and good-fellowship. 

My room was a very pleasant one, and 
there was a circle of six or eight, who loved 
to gather there to have me read for them 



30 EEMINISCENCES 

the next morning's lesson, to smoke, and 
play cards and chess. I was the only one 
who did not smoke, and I soon found myself 
a little lonely. For good-fellowship I de- 
termined to learn. I thought I might lose a 
lesson and a meal from tobacco sickness, yet 
I took a pipe. The first day I lost three les- 
sons and three meals. Supposing the vic- 
tory won, I began again the next day, and 
again I lost three recitations and three 
meals ; and the third day brought the same 
result. But I persevered; and the fourth 
day brought only some temporary uneasi- 
ness. But I never loved smoking, and I 
continued it not for pleasure, but for com- 
panionship, and on the day of graduation I 
gave it up; and from that to this present 
time, sixty years, I have never touched to- 
bacco. 

The college life was very quiet. There 
were not more than fifty or sixty students in 
all, and the craze for athletics was unknown. 
There were no football or baseball games. 
And this quietness helped much to the ef- 
fectiveness of study. 

Among my fellow students there were two 



KEMINISCENCES 31 

only with whom I became quite intimate. 
One of them was Henry Adams Neely, who 
afterward became an assistant minister of 
Trinity Church, New York, and later the 
Bishop of Maine. The other was Charles 
Wells Hayes, who later became the principal 
of the De Lancey Divinity School in Geneva. 
With both of these, as long as they lived, the 
close friendship continued. Both are now 
(1909) at rest; and of all my college mates, 
I think only one is living. 

During the Junior year, I earned my first 
money for literary labor. At the medical 
department of the college, there was one 
female student, Miss Elizabeth Blackwell. 
She was, I think, the first woman to take a 
medical degree in America. As commence- 
ment was coming near, the authorities of the 
medical department were troubled by finding 
that their engraved forms of diplomas did 
not suit the case. They were in Latin, and 
prepared for the masculine gender. They 
applied to the Eev. Dr. Hale, our president, 
seeking someone who could write a good 
hand, and good Latin also. The president 
named me. I drew up a diploma on parch- 



32 REMINISCENCES 

ment, and received fifteen dollars as a fee. 

I passed only two years, the Sophomore 
and Junior, in actual college residence. At 
the close of the Junior year, the president, 
the Rev. Dr. Hale, came to me and earnestly 
pressed an unusual request. He said that 
there was in Syracuse, a very large and im- 
portant school, the Parish School of St. 
Paul's Church, which needed a competent 
principal, and had asked him to find one. 
He flattered me by saying he knew no one 
else so well fitted for the post as I was, — that 
I was so far ahead of my class, that I could 
easily do the Senior work privately, and he 
begged that I would take the charge. I did, 
and though then only twenty-two years old, 
I became the principal of that school, which 
had three departments, and two assistant 
teachers. It kept me closely busy, but did 
not break up my studies ; for at the close of 
the year, I went back to the college, and 
passed all examinations with honor. 

That school year brought me into relations 
with one who afterward became quite dis- 
tinguished, both as scholar and statesman. 
Andrew D. White, then living with his 



REMINISCENCES 33 

father in Syracuse, became a regular pupil 
in the Parish School. He was then about 
seventeen years old. But he was far above 
all the other scholars, not in age, but in char- 
acter and earnestness. His aim was to pre- 
pare for, and enter college. We soon found 
that the regular class work was holding him 
back ; and he asked me to take him as a pri- 
vate scholar, outside of school hours. I de- 
clined to do so, because I needed some hours 
for my own study and for exercise. He was 
persistent, and promised that if I would take 
him, he would at half past five every morn- 
ing bring two saddle horses to my door, one 
for me, and one for himself, and we could 
take our exercise in that way. On that con- 
dition I promised to give him an hour and a 
half daily for tuition. The result was that 
the next year he entered Hobart College with 
credit, just as I was graduated (1849). 

At my graduation, the first honor, the val- 
edictory oration was given to me ; and not- 
withstanding my father's unwillingness to 
have me give up business for study, he, 
bringing one of my sisters, came on from 
New York to be present at the time. 



34 REMINISCENCES 

One month after my graduation, I mar- 
ried Miss Maria G. Peck, 2 with my father's 
approval and his promise to continue to 
help me in money, with the increased ex- 
penses, until my ordination. I remained 
one year longer in charge of the school at 
Syracuse, earning some six hundred dollars, 
to which my father added three hundred; 
and we were able to keep house very moder- 
ately. 

At the end of that year, again at the ur- 
ging of President Hale, whose friendship for 
me was very helpful, I took charge of an 
important academy at Moravia, Cayuga 
County, removing thither with my wife and 
young child. Our house there was very 
small indeed ; hardly large enough for our- 
selves; rent, fifty dollars a year. But we 
soon had to crowd in another. My former 
pupil, Andrew D. White, after his first year 

2 August 22nd, 1849. She was the daughter of Isaac and 
Agnes Peck of Flushing, Long Island. The children of this 
marriage were Adaline Peck, William Hale and John Francis 
(twins), Milnor Peck, and Adelia Vassar. Mrs. Paret died 
February 1st, 1897, and on April 21st, 1900, Bishop Paret 
married Sarah Hayden Haskell, widow of Henry Tudor Has- 
kell of Chicago. Mrs. Sarah Haskell Paret had one daughter 
by her former marriage, — now Mrs. David M, Kobinson. 



REMINISCENCES 35 

at Hobart, determined to go to Yale. And 
he wrote to me, asking me to take him again 
as a private pupil, and prepare him for ad- 
vanced standing at the University, and to 
give him room and board at my house. I 
told him it was impossible, there being no 
room to spare. But he was again insistent, 
wanted no other teacher, and said he would 
be content with a closet or a garret, if it had 
only room for a bed. He came, remained 
several months, proved a very pleasant com- 
panion, and went from me to Yale. He 
afterwards became Attache and Minister at 
the United States Embassy in Russia, Pro- 
fessor of history in the University of Mich- 
igan, President of Cornell University, Min- 
ister and United States Ambassador to 
Germany. 

From Moravia I was recalled to Hobart 
College, to be tutor in Greek, and in the 
mathematics, with opportunity to continue 
my theological studies. Those studies were 
under the personal direction of Bishop De 
Lancey, and several clergymen whom he 
called to help him chief among whom and 
most helpful was the Rev. William D. Wil- 



36 REMINISCENCES 

son, D.D., a man of very great learning, 
and of great ability to impart it. 

At the time of graduation from college, 
there were four or five who were seeking to 
enter the ministry; and the bishop, calling 
us together asked us not to go to a theolog- 
ical seminary, but to remain at or near 
Geneva, and form a class under his direc- 
tion. It was an experiment, but a success- 
ful one. Out of a class of six, two after- 
wards became bishops, and two became the 
heads of schools of theology. 

Besides the general direction and planning 
of the course, the Bishop's personal instruc- 
tions were in preaching, in reading the serv- 
ices, and in pastoral work. Those instruc- 
tions and his personal near influence were 
more helpful to me than any possible the- 
ological seminary. 

When the time for our ordination came, 
our own bishop, Bishop De Lancey, was in 
Europe ; and the Bishop of New Hampshire, 
the Right Reverend Carlton Chase, acting in 
his place admitted me to Deacon's Orders. 
And again my father's objections gave way 
to his interest and affection, and he came to 



REMINISCENCES 37 

Rochester to be present at the ordination. 3 
My first pastoral work was at St. John's 
Church, in Clyde, N. Y., to which President 
Hale acting for the absent bishop had as- 
signed me. It was a small town on the Erie 
Canal, with a small wooden church, and a 
small congregation. On the munificent sal- 
ary of $500 a year I was expected to support 
my wife and child and myself, even paying 
house rent. It called for much self-denial, 
and close counting of pennies ; and it would 
not have been possible, but for the loving 
generosity of my country parishioners. I 
remember one family coming in some four 
miles and every Sunday leaving at the par- 
sonage either a pail of butter, or a basket of 
eggs, or a pair of chickens; and another 
farming household which at least twice every 
winter sent a load of wood ; and others who 
at killing time would send a generous part 
of their mutton or beef. 

One of the parishioners at Clyde was Mr. 
Charles A. Rose, an accomplished gentle- 
man, graduate of college, living pleasantly 
as a gentleman farmer some three miles from 

s 1852. Ordained priest by Bishop De Lancey in 1853, 



38 REMINISCENCES 

the church, where with his wife and daugh- 
ter he was a regular attendant. Our rela- 
tions became somewhat intimate. I sup- 
posed that he was a communicant, but the 
parish records were very imperfect, and at 
the times of Holy Communion I was gener- 
ally absent, since being only a deacon, I could 
get the administration only by exchanging 
services with some neighboring priest. 
While riding one day with Mr. Eose, our 
conversation turned upon some recent pub- 
lications of plausible and bitter skepticism. 
And I said that there were things more 
harmful to Christianity than that; for in- 
stance, the powerful influence of example, 
when men esteemed in a community as men 
of uprightness and honor and lovable qual- 
ities, instead of openly avowing themselves 
Christians, by becoming communicants, 
threw all the power of their character and 
influence practically against Christ and the 
Church, by their attitude of neglect. 

Some weeks after when I had announced 
an appointment for Confirmation, Mr. Rose 
was one of the first to come to me, asking to 
be confirmed. I expressed my surprise, say- 



REMINISCENCES 39 

ing, "I thought you were a communicant." 
He said that though often invited to be con- 
firmed, he had not only always refused, but 
had, for personal reasons, declared that he 
never would be ; but that God had spoken to 
him through me, and he had changed his 
mind. I asked whether he remembered 
what I had once said about the example of 
practical disobedience on the part of other- 
wise good men ; and I almost apologized for 
seeming to be so personal, saying that I 
would not have been so rude, had I under- 
stood his position. 

"I am glad you did not," he said; " in- 
stead of blaming you, I thank you for it, and 
for your plainness. It was by that conver- 
sation my eyes were opened. I saw then 
what was meant by 'He that is not with me 
is against me. ' And I learned a lesson, not 
to let the fear of man keep me from being 
true to God." 

Another warm friend was Mr. Scott, a 
plain man in whose hat shop near the post 
office I used to linger, while waiting for the 
opening of the mail. He was an earnest and 
devout man, a great reader of the Bible, and 



40 REMINISCENCES 

very determined in his position as a Univer- 
salist ; and lie loved to talk about it. He was 
well read and ready as to all the writings in 
defense of his views. Our disagreements 
were very clearly expressed, but always with 
the greatest kindness. He lovingly tried to 
convince me, and I as lovingly tried to con- 
vince him; but both remained firm. After 
some weeks of such acquaintance, he told me 
that he had a son, about twenty-one years 
old, lying very ill with consumption, and be- 
yond hope of recovery ; and he asked me to 
visit him. 

"As a clergyman or only as a social 
friend?" I asked. "As a clergyman," he 
answered. And I told him I would gladly do 
so, if he would leave me free to do all that I 
felt to be my duty. "You know," I said, 
i i that we differ much in our views. You say 
that you do not believe in any Water-Bap- 
tism. I do ; and I count it, as by our Lord's 
appointment, a very great necessity. I shall 
try to make him see it so, and to be baptized. 
It would do harm, instead of good, if you 
tried in any way to prevent it, or to speak in 
opposition to my teachings." He assured 



REMINISCENCES 41 

me that he would in no way interfere, but 
wished to be present at our interviews. It 
was so arranged, and weeks passed with my 
almost daily visits of prayer and teaching; 
the father being always present, and deeply 
interested. The son at first tried to reject 
my teachings, saying that he believed as his 
father did, and could not believe in eternal 
punishment. I refused to consider that 
point, saying that I did not ask him to be- 
lieve in eternal punishment, but in eternal 
salvation. And as often as he tried to bring 
that subject forward, I pushed it aside. At 
last he listened, joined in the prayers, and 
was eager for my visits. When I began to 
speak to him about the duty and the blessing 
of Baptism, again he said, " There is no use 
in talking about that, I agree with my father, 
and do not believe in any Water-Baptism." 
And I answered that the question was not 
what he thought, but what Christ wished and 
commanded; and I read and explained the 
passages about it in the New Testament. 
Again there was long hesitation and slow 
yielding. And at last I said to him, "Now I 
am going to ask your decision. Will you be 



42 REMINISCENCES 

baptized or not % If you say yes, I will be 
very glad. If you say no, I will accept that 
as final. Think and pray over it to-night, 
and when I come to you to-morrow, give me 
your answer.' ' 

The next day he told me he had been much 
in doubt; at one time thinking he would be 
baptized, but then not feeling entirely sure, 
he thought it would be wrong to do an act 
about which he was in doubt. ' i So, ' ' he said, 
"I will not be baptized." His father, who 
during those many weeks had said nothing 
except to join in the prayers, started up, ex- 
claiming, "O, Walter, do not say that," and 
then asked my permission to speak to him 
which I gave. He said to his son, that he 
thought he was an absolutely temperate man, 
and the son confirmed it, saying that he did 
not drink anything that could intoxicate. 
"That is right," said the father, "it is good 
to be temperate, but there is a society called 
the Sons of Temperance and those who are 
members of it have help to keep their own 
good habits, and help in trying to save others. 
But your being temperate does not make you 
a Son of Temperance. They require that 



REMINISCENCES 43 

you should say so in their way, should put 
your name to their pledge, and be bound by 
their rules. Now Mr. Paret says, and I 
think that the Bible agrees with him, that 
God has a Society called the Church; and 
membership in that brings you help for your- 
self, and helps you to help others. Now I 
am sure you do really repent of all you have 
ever done that was wrong. But repentance 
alone does not make you a member of the 
Church. The Saviour wants you to say so 
in his way ; to put your name to his pledge ; 
and that is by being baptized. ' ' 

After a few moments' silence, the young 
man said, — "I wish to be baptized." In 
further preparing him I read and explained 
the service for Baptism. As I reached the 
first question, "Dost thou renounce the Devil 
and all his works?" he exclaimed, "I was 
afraid something would prevent it. I can't 
answer that question ; I do not believe in any 
devil." "I do not ask you to believe in the 
Devil. I only want you to believe in the 
Lord Jesus Christ." And I read to him the 
passages in the New Testament which speak 
of the Devil, or Satan, and I said, "Now 



44 REMINISCENCES 

neither you nor I know exactly what it 
means; but put your own meaning on it. 
Whether it means, as I think, a personal 
wicked spirit or only the power of sin and 
evil ; put the Bible meaning on it. Dost thou 
renounce the Devil and all his works?" 
"With all my heart," was the answer. The 
next day he was baptized, lived some three 
months after, received the Holy Communion, 
and on his death, I buried him. 

Soon after my Bishop insisted on my go- 
ing to another parish, and some few months 
later I received a letter from Mr. Scott tell- 
ing me that he, his wife and his daughters 
had all been baptized and confirmed. To 
my questions of surprise that one so fixed in 
his peculiar views should make such a 
change, he said, " Before I knew you, when- 
ever I read my Bible, there was always one 
thought which hid everything else from my 
mind; and that was the question of eternal 
punishment. But when you visited my son, 
you pushed it out of the way as a trifle. It 
has been a trifle to me ever since. I am will- 
ing to leave that to God's loving justice. 
And now I can see, as I never saw before, the 



REMINISCENCES 45 

great truths told in the Apostles' Creed; and 
my Bible seems full of light. ' ' 

It was at Clyde that I became an enthusi- 
astic trout-fisherman. I had opened a par- 
ish school which I taught myself ; and with 
this added to general pastoral work, I was 
closely confined. I became dyspeptic. The 
good country doctor, after a few visits, said 
that he could not help me, unless I would 
keep my own rules. I preached to others 
that they must work only six days in the 
week, and I was working seven. "You must 
go trout-fishing, one day each week." But 
when I said I knew nothing of trout, he an- 
swered, "It is a poor country doctor that 
cannot administer his own medicine. I will 
take you fishing next Monday." He did so, 
and before we left the stream, he asked how 
I liked it. "Greatly," I answered. He 
took a prescription pad, and wrote, "To be 
repeated one day each week, till November." 
I obeyed, and the dyspepsia vanished. 



MY LIFE AT PIERREPONT MANOR 



CHAPTER IV 

MY LIFE AT PIEEREPONT MANOR 

About the year 1855, after only two years 
at Clyde, much against my own will, but at 
the Bishop 's almost positive command, I be- 
came rector of Zion Church, Pierrepont 
Manor. The salary was still only $600 
(with wife and three children to care for) . 
But there was a parsonage with some six 
acres of ground. Having been before used 
only to city or town life, I knew nothing of 
the country; but I soon became a farmer, 
and with that scanty salary, I had to do 
much of my own work. I learned to take 
care of my own horse, and to milk my two 
cows. 

My work soon grew from the one little 
church holding only 100 people, to two 
churches, six miles apart, a parish school 
which I founded, and in which, with two as- 
sistant teachers, women, I taught for two 



50 EEMINISCENCES 

hours daily except Mondays and Saturdays. 
Besides the church at Pierrepont Manor, 
finding myself the only resident minister in 
a region of more than 150 square miles, I 
began services in four distant schoolhouses, 
giving my Wednesday and Friday evenings 
to them, so that each had a service once in a 
fortnight. The schoolhouses were always 
well filled, and the people interested. I soon 
found also a church which had been built, 
while he was a layman, — by him who after- 
ward became Bishop Whipple. It was in 
the thriving town of Adams. I found three 
or four remaining church members, and I 
offered my services to keep the church open, 
and try to rebuild the work. They de- 
clined, saying it was impossible to pay any 
salary; and I answered that I did not ask 
any salary. If they would open the church, 
light it and heat it, I would hold service 
every Sunday evening. And after much 
urging they agreed. But since I had at the 
Manor, two full services and a Sunday 
School, and had to get home to attend to 
barn duties there by 10 p.m., I had to fix 
my services at Adams at half past six. It 



REMINISCENCES 51 

seemed at first that the hour was so incon- 
venient, that attendance would be very 
small. But it proved the very opposite. 
There were five other places of worship ; but 
at half past six, none of them had services, 
and their people were all free to come to 
mine. They did come. My church became 
the popular place and was always well filled. 
Among the regular attendants soon were 
found the Baptist minister, the Methodist 
and Congregational ministers, and one re- 
tired Presbyterian minister, the Reverend 
Jedidiah Burchard who had been a famous 
revivalist. Sitting in the congregation they 
took hearty part in the services, and we be- 
came warm personal friends. 

My work at Adams lasted some ten years, 
and was full of pleasant incidents ; and left 
as a result a congregation so strong that it 
afterwards had its own resident rector. 

One of the regular attendants and regular 
in receiving Holy Communion, was Mr. 
John H. Whipple, the chief merchant of the 
place. He was the father of Bishop "Whip- 
ple, and was soon elected a member of the 
vestry. After some eighteen months, there 



52 KEMINISCENCES 

was to be a Confirmation, and in preparing 
for it, I learned to my surprise that lie had 
never been confirmed, and I told him he 
would be glad to have the opportunity now. 
He answered that he did not intend to be 
confirmed; that he was a member of the 
Presbyterian congregation, his wife regu- 
larly attended that worship, his friends and 
business associates were Presbyterians, and 
he could not separate himself from them. I 
reminded him that he was claiming and had 
claimed for eighteen months, all the priv- 
ileges of a regularly recognized communi- 
cant ; and read to him the Prayer Book rule 
which made Confirmation necessary to such 
a position. 

To this he answered that his son, the 
bishop, assured him that in his case it was 
not necessary. And in the confidence of 
enthusiastic youth I answered that while his 
son was Bishop of Minnesota, he had no 
authority in Adams, and that I was rector. 
He hoped that I would not press the rule, 
and I said I hoped he would not compel me 
to do so. But, ' ' I insist, ' ' he said. i ' Do you 
say that I cannot continue as a communi- 



REMINISCENCES 53 

cant without being confirmed ?" I said I 
was sorry, but there could be only one an- 
swer, and that was given in the Prayer 
Book. "Then you shut the door of the 
Church against me ? " " No, ' ' I said, i ' I hold 
the front door of the Church wide open ; but 
if you say you will not come in that way; 
and unless you can come in through the back 
door, or a window, you will not come in at 
all, then you are shut out not by me, but by 
yourself." Several times before the Con- 
firmation, and even only a week before it, 
we went over the matter again. But he 
would not yield. The evening of Confirma- 
tion came, and I was called out from the 
vestry room with the statement that some- 
one wished to see me at the door. It was Mr. 
Whipple, who said, "I have changed my 
mind, and if it is not too late, I wish to be 
confirmed." 

It was one of my earliest confirmations of 
a principle and truth which I have never 
found to fail in all my nearly fifty-nine 
years in the ministry ; that is, that it is pos- 
sible to maintain with absolute firmness, and 
yet with most perfect kindness, the princi- 



54 BEMINISCENCES 

pies and rules of the Church ; and in so do- 
ing I never lost a friend but gained the con- 
fidence and respect of those who did not 
agree with me. 

Some other incidents of my pastoral work 
at Adams will illustrate this. Among the 
most regular attendants at our early even- 
ing service was the Baptist minister, the 
Eeverend Mr. Cleghorn. He was a Scotch- 
man by birth, a clear-headed man and firm 
in his own views. He always brought his 
own Prayer Book, and I heard his clear, full 
voice in the responses. He soon made him- 
self known to me, and expressed very great 
love for the Prayer Book, and satisfaction 
for his enjoyment and help in the services. 
He had another congregation at Woodville, 
a village some five or six miles distant ; and 
one day he came to me asking a favor. He 
said, "My people at Woodville have never 
known a Prayer Book service. It would 
help them much. Will you not give us a 
service there ? I will put the church at your 
disposal, and will sit with the congregation 
and lead them in the responses. ' ' I accepted 
the invitation and took a number of Prayer 



REMINISCENCES 55 

Books and some of my own people. And at 
least twice a year for the nine or ten years 
of my longer stay, lie repeated the invita- 
tion, saying, "My people want it, and I want 
it for them." 

A few years later, returning from a jour- 
ney, as I entered the cars at a place thirty 
miles south of my home, the voice of Mr. 
Cleghorn called me by name saying, ' l Come 
here, come ; your name was just on my lips. " 
He introduced me to several Baptist min- 
isters who w T ere returning with him from the 
meetings of a Baptist " Association. " "I 
was just telling them," he said, "how greatly 
your services and sermons delighted and 
helped me. And if you would only change 
two things, I think I would be confirmed 
and join your Church." "What tw r o 
things?" I asked. "Give up baptizing 
babies," he said, "and have the Baptism of 
Repentance, and give up sprinkling and 
have only immersion." To my question, 
"Why not baptize infants'?" he answered, 
"because they cannot repent, and there can 
be no right Baptism without repentance." 
"Oh, yes, there can be," I said. And he an- 



56 REMINISCENCES 

swered, "Repentance must come first. Re- 
pent and be baptized, is the command. Why 
the very act of Baptism is itself a profession 
of repentance, the acknowledgment of sins 
to be forgiven and washed away. And acts 
speak as plainly as words." To my re- 
peated assertions, that there could be a right 
Baptism without repentance, he said that if 
I could show him a proof of a right Baptism 
without repentance, he would come and be 
confirmed, and his fellow Baptist ministers 
said they would all come if I could prove it, 
"Very well," I said, "I may hold you to 
that. But leave that point for the present, 
and come to the other. Why must we be 
immersed?" "Because Christ was," he 
said. I denied it, saying the ancient inscrip- 
tions, in the Catacombs and elsewhere, rep- 
resented Him as standing knee deep in the 
water, while St. John poured water on Him 
from a shell; "but yielding that point for 
the time, why must we do just the same?" 
"Because," he said, "that was the great ex- 
ample, the pattern of what a right Baptism 
must be." And I answered, "That, you say 
was the great, right Baptism. But please 



REMINISCENCES 57 

tell me when He repented. " "Why He 
could not repent, He had no sins of His own 
to be repented." "Just what we say of an 
infant," was my answer. "But that was 
only for an example," he said. "What," 
said I; "you say the very act of Baptism is 
a profession of repentance; then Christ by 
being baptized made a profession of re- 
pentance ; if so, the profession was not hon- 
est. You acknowledge that it was the great 
pattern of right Baptism, and you acknowl- 
edge that He did not repent. I hope you 
will all keep your promise. Our bishop will 
be with us for Confirmation in about four 
months, and I shall expect you then. But 
we have reached my station and I must leave 
you." 

The Methodist minister at Adams was, as 
I have said, a regular attendant at our serv- 
ices. One Sunday evening he waited for 
me at the door, asked me to go into his house 
which was very near, and meet his wife, who, 
he said, was not a Methodist, but a communi- 
cant in the Episcopal Church. On a subse- 
quent visit he was telling me some of his ex- 
periences ; and among them of his residence 



58 REMINISCENCES 

in a certain city, where there were two Epis- 
copal clergymen and churches. One of 
them, the Eev. Mr. G., he said was an un- 
usually liberal man ; "he not only often came 
to our worship, but also often asked us to 
take part in his, sometimes by offering 
prayer and sometimes by preaching. It 
seemed very liberal." 

Now the Eev. Dr. S., the other Church 
clergyman was a man of a different school. 
I asked, "Did you know the Rev. Dr. S.?" 
' ' Oh, yes, very well. ' ' " Did he ever ask you 
to take part in his services ?" and he said 
"No." "Which of the two," said I, "did 
you respect more, Mr. G. or Dr. S.?" "I 
don't understand," was his answer. "You 
said you liked Mr. G-.'s liberality. I am not 
speaking of liking, but of respecting. 
Which did you respect more?" And the 
answer was, — "Dr. S. We saw that he was 
true to the rules of his own Church, while 
the other was not." 

That same Methodist minister proved a 
great help to me. There came a strike on 
the part of our organist and choir. The or- 
gan was a very wretched instrument, and it 



REMINISCENCES 59 

was played in such a manner that, in the 
chants especially, no one could join. For 
some weeks I adopted the method of reading 
the chants, and calling the congregation to 
respond heartily by reading; and they did 
so. The choir took offense, and one even- 
ing as I announced the hymn and waited, 
the singers, though in their usual seats, re- 
mained silent. After a pause I announced 
it again and read the first verse. Still no 
answer. I saw that there was a very full 
congregation, and I said that I did not want 
to lose that part of our worship; "I see a 
good number of Methodist brethren here, 
and they are used to singing. The hymn is 
of long metre ; Old Hundred or Duke Street 
would go well with it. I would be much 
pleased if someone would lead." The 
Methodist minister rose, and some twenty or 
more of his own people, rose with him. And 
such good hearty singing as we had then, 
that little church had never known before. 
After service the Methodist minister came 
to me and said, "That was grand. I will 
stand by you. I will be here, and have some 
of my good singers with me. ' ' 



60 EEMINISCENCES 

The winters in that northern region (al- 
most up to the St. Lawrence) were very se- 
vere and very long. Beginning with deep 
snows in November, they lasted all through 
March, the thermometer often going down to 
20° below zero, and sometimes 30 or 32. 
But during all my eleven years there I did 
not, more than five times in all, fail in an ap- 
pointment. The people soon recognized my 
punctuality, and by their own they proved 
their appreciation. In the severest weather 
I was sure of a fair congregation. For my 
long cold rides I wore two overcoats, and two 
pair of shoes ; the outer pair very loose, of 
cowhide with the hair still remaining on the 
inside; under my feet a piece of soapstone 
well heated and wrapped in carpet; in my 
lap, a piece of railroad iron heated and 
wrapped in the same way. For the first two 
years I had no horse of my own. For my 
services, Mr. Pierrepont lent me one of his, 
a very old one, named Doctor, with the un- 
derstanding that on my return in the even- 
ing I was not to take it back to him, but 
should keep it in my own barn until the next 
day. Coming home one night, about half 



REMINISCENCES 61 

past ten, from a service at one of my school 
houses, nine miles distant, I had fallen asleep 
in my sleigh. The horse, left to his own 
guidance, instead of going to my barn, 
stopped at his master's door. He shook his 
bells, and the family, still in their reading 
room, recognized it, and said, "The Elder is 
coming.' ' (I was rarely called by my own 
name, almost always, "The Elder," as being 
the only resident minister in a very large 
district.) But I did not go in. Again the 
bells were shaken ; and after a pause a third 
time. Mr. Pierrepont came out, and saw me* 
sitting in the sleigh. He called me, but I did 
not answer; called again and still no an- 
swer. He came and touched me, yet I did 
not move. Then, frightened, he called his 
family and servants. They lifted me out, 
slapped me with hands and reins, to restore 
circulation, rubbed my face with snow, and 
at last I began to awake. The waking was 
full of pain, though the going to sleep had 
been painless. Had the good horse taken 
me to my own barn, the result would have 
been very different. The thermometer that 
night marked 32° below zero. 



62 KEMINISCENCES 

When I went to Pierrepont Manor, I 
found the people near it, almost all nomi- 
nally TJniversalists, but practically indiffer- 
ent and without any religion. From our few 
Church families I could gather only some 
fifteen children for my Sunday School. Dis- 
couraged by this, after my first year, I said 
to Mr. Pierrepont, "If I cannot get more 
than fifteen children for an hour on Sunday, 
I see how I could get at least double that 
number for several hours, five days during 
the week. I want a daily parish school.' 5 
After consideration he approved the idea, 
and offered a site for a schoolhouse, exactly 
opposite the church. Being himself a prac- 
tical engineer and architect, he drew a plan 
which I liked, and said, "It will cost about 
$1,800, and I will give it." I said that I did 
not want that ; because the people would call 
it Pierrepont 's School. I would send out 
an appeal, explaining the purpose, and ask- 
ing contributions. To my pleasant surprise 
I secured some $200 and he gave the rest. I 
secured a lady as an excellent chief teacher, 
at a salary of $350, and gathered in the 
teacher and pupils of a little village infant 



REMINISCENCES 63 

school. Then came another pleasant sur- 
prise. There were seats in all for forty- 
eight scholars, and on the opening day, fifty 
presented themselves. In the circular sent 
out I explained fully that it was a Church 
school, that there would be daily worship and 
religious instruction, and that both would be 
after the method of the Prayer Book; but 
that all would be welcome who would con- 
form to the rules of the school. I was my- 
self present and teaching for two hours 
every school day but Monday. 

The school continued successfully for ten 
years more, and there being nothing to com- 
pete with it, but a very poor District School, 
I soon commanded and controlled the young 
life for miles around. Boys and girls would 
come in and take places for morning and 
evening work in families, that they might 
attend the school. The positive but plain 
teaching, based on Bible, Prayer Book and 
Catechism (the last being thoroughly 
taught), soon had effect, and the scholars 
began voluntarily to come to church on Sun- 
days. Their parents followed them, and 
my little church accommodating only about 



64 REMINISCENCES 

100, had to be enlarged to double that size. 
Many proofs of its wider influence have 
come to me; one lad, who came as a plain 
farm boy, became in later years the superin- 
tendent of public instruction in one of our 
large Western States. 

Among the brightest were two brothers, 
seventeen and fifteen years of age, of a 
family of Universalists, and themselves 
quite firm in that direction. Now I had 
made it a rule of the school, that in the daily 
prayers, everyone should kneel, and should 
also repeat the Apostles' Creed. After two 
or three months, I thought some were not 
obeying. I called attention to the rules, ex- 
plained their reasonableness, and said that 
the next day I would ask if any failed. The 
next morning after prayers, I said that if 
anyone had failed to say the Creed, or to 
kneel, they would please stand. Five stood. 
I again explained the reasonableness, and 
beginning with the older of the two brothers, 
I asked him whether he would hereafter 
obey the rules, and he said that he could not. 
His brother said the same. All the others 
promised obedience. Then speaking to the 



BEMINISCENCES 65 

older brother (Pardon Williams), I said, 
- 'Pardon, you have been in all other respects 
one of my best scholars, and I have been 
much interested in you. I should be sorry 
to lose you. But the good order of the 
school must be maintained. We have been 
personally good friends, and I hope and 
think we shall continue to be so. But if you 
cannot change your mind, I must ask that 
when the school is closed to-day, you will 
take your books home and cease to attend 
the school." 

Two weeks later the two brothers called 
at my house, and said, — "We have made a 
mistake. We cannot give up the great ad- 
vantages of your teaching. And if you will 
let us return you will have no trouble about 
our full obedience." 

Some twenty-five years later, in a steamer 
on the St. Lawrence, I recognized in a fel- 
low passenger, my former pupil. I went 
to him and he recognized me joyfully. I 
asked about his life since, and he said he was 
" District Attorney" for his county, was a 
candidate for one of the judgeships in the 
Supreme Court of the State, and was quite 



66 REMINISCENCES 

confident of his election. (He was elected.) 
I asked where he completed his education, 
and he said, " Nowhere but in your parish 
school. I owe all I am to that." I re- 
minded him of his early Universalist convic- 
tions and asked whether he was still firm in 
those views. His answer was that his wife 
was a communicant of the Episcopal Church, 
his children all baptized, and he himself at- 
tended there every Sunday. 

Some incidents of the life at Pierrepont 
Manor are worth recording. As at Clyde 
it would have been impossible to live on my 
very small salary were it not for the untir- 
ing kindness of my parishioners. If the 
hay in my barn grew low, they found it out, 
— and a load soon arrived. In those long 
cold winters we burned a great quantity of 
wood; there was no coal. For the first 
winter I bought a large supply, but early in 
the second winter, as one of my farming 
people, Mr. F., after dining with us, stepped 
out and looked around, he said, "Why your 
wood is almost gone." And when I said I 
was just about ordering thirty cords, he in- 
sisted that I must not do it, until I should 



REMINISCENCES 67 

have heard further from him. Going to Mr. 
Pierrepont, who owned several thousand 
acres of good wood land near at hand, he told 
him that the rector's wood pile was almost 
exhausted, and that he, Mr. P., could easily 
spare from his wood land all that was 
needed; and he asked permission to have it 
cut, offering himself to superintend, and to 
see that no damage was done. Mr. Pierre- 
pont agreed on condition that it should be 
delivered at my door without any cost to me. 
Mr. Foresman at once arranged what he 
called a logging-bee. Some ten or more 
men volunteered to go out and cut down the 
trees. And in due time I was notified that 
they were going to draw, and that since it 
was so cold, we must have a good supply 
of hot coffee, and something to eat ready for 
them as they came in. My door-yard, by 
no means a small one, was in two or three 
days' work, pretty well filled with maple 
and beech, the best kinds of fire wood, — in 
long logs of sled length. In thanking them 
I asked how I should get that out of the way, 
since, though I split and carried in my own 
wood, I was not able to chop those great 



68 REMINISCENCES 

logs. They named a man some three or 
four miles distant who had a horse-power 
saw. He agreed to saw it, and when I asked 
the price, he said, "Time enough to talk 
about that." I told him it was necessary 
for me to count my money closely, and I 
must know beforehand. "Did you think I 
could be as mean as that?" he asked. 
i ' Don 't you know mef I did not. ' i Well, ' ' 
he said, "you did not see much of me, but 
only of my wife. But last winter when my 
children had the diphtheria, and almost 
everyone was afraid to come near us, you and 
your wife came again and again and helped 
us greatly. I don't belong to your church. 
I am a Baptist. But I will saw your wood, 
and it shan't cost you a dollar." 

For all my many winters after in that 
parish, the logging-bee was an annual cus- 
tom and my fuel cost me nothing. 

There were many such incidents in my life, 
of "bread cast upon the waters, and return- 
ing after many days. ' ' 

Midway between Pierrepont Manor and 
Adams there was close by the roadside a 
small house where a young laboring man and 



KEMINISCENCES 69 

his wife were living very plainly. I 
passed that house every Sunday in going to 
and returning from my evening service at 
Adams. Learning that the wife was very 
ill, and that they had no friends, I stopped 
there one Sunday evening on my way to 
church, talked with them, and offered to 
pray with them. But it seemed as if my 
visit was not welcome, and they did not like 
the prayers. The next Sunday, taking my 
wife with me, I left her at the house of sick- 
ness to wait and help there, until I went on 
to the church at Adams and returned; and 
little by little we found our way to their 
confidence. Nearly twenty years later, when 
I was rector of the Church of the Epiphany 
in Washington, I was walking far out in the 
suburbs to visit a sick person. There was a 
heavy blizzard of hail. My cap was pulled 
down, my collar turned up, leaving nothing 
visible but my eyes. A mounted policeman 
rode past me, and as he glanced at me, he 
slackened his pace, looked at me again, and 
finally drew up to the sidewalk and stopped. 
As I reached him I asked, "Did you want 
me?" And he said, "Yes, is your name 



70 REMINISCENCES 

Paret?" And on my answer he asked 
whether I did not remember him. I con- 
fessed that I did not. "Did you ever know 
Alf Tredway?" he asked; and when I said I 
remembered the name many years back, he 
said that I ought to remember the little 
house where I stopped so often on my way to 
Adams, to help and encourage a young man 
and his wife who were in much distress ; and 
that he was that man, Alf Tredway, and 
could never forget me. 

While at Pierrepont Manor I was a very 
earnest trout-fisherman, and regularly from 
May 1st to November 1st, gave every Mon- 
day to that. It was a duty, a necessity for 
health of body and of mind, for Monday was 
my only rest day. Rising at five, I drove 
seven or eight miles to reach the trout 
streams, reaching home again at about dark, 
and always with a good basketful of fish ; for 
the trout were abundant, the country was 
wild, and there were only two or three be- 
side myself who went after them. To reach 
one of my best trout streams, I drove some 
six miles, turned into a wood road for two 
miles, and stopped at a log cabin occupied by 



REMINISCENCES 71 

Mrs. Fitzgerald, a very aged Irish woman, 
and her two middle aged, unmarried sons. 
They were very hospitable, took care of my 
horse, and had a bowl of bread and milk 
ready for me in the evening. But I was a 
fisher of men, as well as a fisher for trout, 
and the two went well together. After a few 
weeks' acquaintance I asked the good old 
lady if she ever went to church. "Sure, 
how could I?" she said; "they have what 
they call meetings and revivals at the school- 
house, but I can't worship that way. If I 
could find a church of my own I would go." 
I asked what church she meant and she took 
from a high shelf a book which she handed 
to me, saying, * ' That will show you. ' ' It was 
a Prayer Book of the Church of Ireland. I 
told her she could find her Church at Pierre- 
pont Manor, only seven or eight miles away, 
and in proof I showed her my Prayer Book, 
and told her I was the minister. "With tears 
streaming she kneeled and kissed my hand, 
and said that if she was a living woman the 
next Sunday the boys should take her there. 
And at least once a month after that, she was 
at church. She had also a married son liv- 



72 EBMINISCENCES 

ing in the neighborhood, and his four chil- 
dren had not been baptized. I soon had a 
service in her log cabin, inviting the neigh- 
bors, baptized the four children, and ex- 
plained the need and the blessing. Going 
out occasionally for services and instructions 
I soon had the pleasure of baptizing a num- 
ber of other children, and several adult per- 
sons. And years later after I had left that 
neighborhood, I learned that a neat chapel 
had been built at the corners, and was used 
as a mission of the Church at the Manor. 

Besides my trout fishing, for many years 
I took August as a vacation, taking my own 
horse and wagon and two of my parishioners 
as companions, and driving some forty or 
more miles into the southwestern part of the 
Adirondack "Woods or John Brown's Tract. 
There were no Adirondack hotels then. We 
built our own bark shanty, made our own 
beds of hemlock branches, cut our own wood, 
and did all our own work. And now as I 
am writing this in my 84th year, I am sure 
that I owe my good health and long life, 
under God's Providence, to my long drives 
and walks, my hard pastoral work, my fish- 



BEMINISCENCES 73 

ing, and the open-air life to which all these 
led me. It was a very happy life; and 
many years later, after experience in city 
parishes, including Washington, I asked my 
wife, in which of our homes she had been 
most contented, and she answered that she 
thought our happiest days were those of the 
very plain life at Pierrepont Manor. 

There were some amusing things in my 
stay there. I have said that I was the only 
resident minister in a very large region. 
But after a while there came for temporary 
stay, a man named Taft, who practised sev- 
eral callings. He sold tinware, bought 
sheepskins, practised medicine, and on Sun- 
days preached in the district schoolhouse. 
One day he came to me saying that he was 
reading a book about the Episcopal Church, 
which had some quotations in Latin and 
Greek from what is called the early Fathers. 
And since he did not understand those lan- 
guages he asked me to write out the transla- 
tion for him. I did so, and soon after I 
found that the book was written as an at- 
tack on the Church. Armed with that he 
announced that he was going to preach five 



74 REMINISCENCES 

or six sermons exposing the errors of the 
Episcopal Church. In his second or third 
sermon he began using his quotations, saying 
' ' On this point Tertullian says ' ' &c. But he 
pronounced the name as if it were Turtle- 
lion, and after two or three uses of it, one 
of the good countrywomen said to her neigh- 
bor, "I wonder if it is anything like a Camel- 
leopard. ' ? And a little laugh passed around. 
Presently he passed to another of the early 
Fathers, with the words, "On this point Cy- 
prian says," etc. And again he mispro- 
nounced the name, as if it were "Si-pran," 
and to the same good woman after the sec- 
ond use, it suggested the familiar play 
of " Simon says up, Simon says down, Simon 
says wiggle," and soon planting her thumb 
on her knee, she said " Simon says up." 
The hint took, and several thumbs followed. 
At the next use of the same, she turned her 
hand saying, " Simon says down;" and five 
or six imitated her. When it came to 
"Simon says wiggle," the preacher noticed 
it, and closing his book in anger, he said, "I 
have been insulted while preaching the 
Gospel, and until an apology is made, I will 



EEMINISCENCES 75 

not preach here again." No apology was 
made, and his preaching at that place was 
ended. The same man's medical practise 
will illustrate many things that I had to 
meet among uneducated quacks. In a farm 
house near the rectory, was a young man 
very low with consumption. I was in the 
habit of visiting him almost daily; and one 
morning I found the tin and sheepskin 
wagon at the door. Going in I found the 
family and some friends standing around the 
walls of the sittingroom; while in the cen- 
ter sat the sick man supported by others, 
and opposite him, their knees touching, sat 
Mr. Taft. Both were bent forward, so that 
the tops of their heads touched. Presently 
he looked up, and to my question as to what 
he was doing he said, "I was making an ob- 
servation of this case." And when I asked 
an explanation he said, "You know that I 
practise medicine on spiritualistic princi- 
ples; and when we get into what is called 
6 report' the organ of vision is the top of 
the head." "Do you mean that you could 
see?" "Saw clean through him, way to 
his boots. " " You could see his lungs then, ' ' 



76 REMINISCENCES 

I said, "and the trouble is there ?" "Not 
at all," lie answered. "His lungs are as 
sound as yours or mine. But you know he 
has a portable sawmill down in the woods, 
and he hurt himself there. In lifting some 
heavy logs, he bust his diaphragm. That 
is all." 



PROM 1864 TO 1869 



CHAPTER V 

from 1864 to 1869 

But happy as that active life was at the 
Manor, the time came when it was a duty to 
leave it. My children were reaching an age 
when they needed better opportunities for 
education than they could get at home. And 
on a salary of six hundred and fifty dollars, 
boarding schools were out of possibility. 
So when an unexpected call came to me from 
a Western city, offering me $1,800 a year I 
accepted it, and removed to East Saginaw 
in Michigan. 4 My stay there was not long, 
only some two years, and was marked by 
few things save continual family sickness. 
One incident, however, is worth recording. 
There were very large lumber camps a few 
miles out of the city. I had f ound a lumber- 
man, very ill with consumption, at one of 
the very low city taverns, where he had no 

* This was in 1864. 



80 REMINISCENCES 

comfort and no care. Two ladies of the 
parish, at my request, visited and helped 
him ; and before he died, I had the happiness 
of baptizing him as one truly penitent. At 
his burial fifty or sixty of the men from 
camp came to the church. Some three months 
later, returning at 10 p. m. on Sunday from 
an exchange with a neighboring clergyman, 
and passing through the city toward my own 
house on the further side, I was stopped by 
the Mayor and Chief of Police who told me 
I could not go on; that several hundred 
lumbermen were in the city on a strike, had 
become a drunken mob, and threatened 
every man who approached them. I in- 
sisted on seeing for myself, and they ac- 
companied me a little nearer. Slipping 
away from them, I entered the crowd, hop- 
ing to pass through, but I was seized and 
whirled about, seized again by another and 
whirled, then as he was about to repeat it, he 
saw my face, and asked : 

"Are you not the parson that took care of 
Jim?" 

"If you mean the man who was sick at the 
Lone Star Tavern, I am." 



a 

it 



REMINISCENCES 81 

"Boys," he said, "I told you of the par- 
son who took care of Jim. Here he is. 
Hats off, boys." 

And every head was uncovered. 
What do you want, Parson T' 
My wife and children are over there on 
the hill, I know they are frightened, and I 
must get to them." 

"Make a lane, boys!" 

And he, and one other led me through to 
my own house. Half an hour later that 
mob had dispersed and all was quiet. 

Western New York was calling me back, 
and I gladly left a city of great unhealthi- 
ness and very low morals, and became 
Rector of Trinity Church, Elmira, N. Y. 
My stay there was made very pleasant by 
my happy association with the Rev. Thos. 
K. Beecher, an eminent Congregational 
minister, a brother, or possibly a half 
brother of Henry Ward Beecher. His 
church was on the corner diagonally across 
from mine. Some ten days after reaching 
Elmira, I was in a store purchasing furni- 
ture for the rectory, when the merchant 
came to me saying, "Tom Beecher is here, 



82 REMINISCENCES 

— (I beg pardon, the Rev. Mr. Beecher, but 
we always call him Tom) , and he wants much 
to be introduced to you, if you will permit 
it." I expressed my pleasure, and we met. 
After some ten minutes of conversation, 
Mr. Beecher said that perhaps he ought to 
apologize ; I might think he had been study- 
ing me. I said that, on the contrary, the 
interview was very pleasant indeed, and I 
hoped it might lead to many others. 
"But," said he, "I have been studying you; 
I began to study when I first heard that you 
were coming, and I have been studying you 
since, and somewhat selfishly. I am going 
away in two or three weeks on a voyage by 
a sailing vessel to San Francisco. I shall 
be gone eight months or more. Our trustees 
have made no arrangements for continuing 
services while I am absent, and I fear they 
will not do so soon, now why cannot you 
preach to both congregations?" On look- 
ing and speaking my surprise, he said that 
he was fully in earnest, if he ever was in his 
life, and really meant and wished it. I an- 
swered that if he really wished it, I might 
do it in one way; that my church was very 



REMINISCENCES 83 

large, large enough I thought to have room 
for both congregations ; and that my people 
scattered by long vacancy in pastorship were 
very few; that I would take the responsi- 
bility to declare our pews free during his 
absence; and I would be glad to have him 
give my love to his people, and assure them 
of a hearty welcome. "But as for the week 
day work," I said, "the work from house 
to house, I fear I could not undertake that. 
It will take all my time to hunt and find and 
bring my own scattered flock." 

"Week day work? House to house?" he 
answered. "Yes, you are a priest and 
pastor, I am only a preacher. You are a 
rightly ordained minister ; I am only a Sun- 
day lecturer. I would no more think of go- 
ing around to inquire into the spiritual state 
of my people, than a dentist would go and 
ask to look at their teeth." 

The Sunday before his voyage he said to 
his people: "This is my last worship with 
you for some time. Our trustees have, as 
yet, made no provision for services. But 
I beg you, do not scatter to the four winds. 
Keep together, and do not go far away from 



84 REMINISCENCES 

home. There is an excellent place on the 
opposite corner, called Trinity Church. I 
have had a conference with the rector. He 
sends his love to you, and says there will be 
free seats and a hearty welcome for you. I 
advise you to go there. You will like the 
worship and it will help you." 

They took him at his word and came in 
very large numbers. On his voyage he 
sent back letters to his people, which were 
published in one of the daily papers. In 
the first one he said he was reading Froude's 
History of England, with which he was 
greatly pleased because of the light it shed 
on the Prayer Book. "And don't be 
alarmed, dear Congregational friends, be- 
cause I tell my love for the Prayer Book. 
When I travel, my Bible and my Prayer 
Book go together." His second letter was 
sent from Rio. He said that reaching there 
Sunday morning he asked the Captain where 
he could go to Church, "and please note," 
he said, "that I spell Church with a capital 
C. It is all very well to be a Congregation- 
alist, when you are among your personal 
friends, who can give you their personal 



REMINISCENCES 85 

support. But if you are abroad in the 
world, and want Christian privilege or 
sympathy, you must be a member of a 
CHURCH, which can go with you the world 
over, and has a history to stand on way 
back to the first Apostles. You must be a 
member either of the Roman Catholic or of 
the Protestant Episcopal Church. And 
since I cannot be the former, when I travel 
I am a Churchman. The Captain advised 
me to go to the Chapel of the English Em- 
bassy, and I did so. The service was all 
sung, but so simply that I was soon able to 
take my part. I said the Confession, took 
home to myself the Absolution, heard a good 
plain Gospel sermon and went away much 
helped by it. And so will all of you, dear 
friends, if with real wish to worship you do 
it with a Prayer Book." 

A fortnight after his return I visited him ; 
and he said, "Well, my people took me at 
my word." And when I said yes, that they 
came in good numbers, he said that he saw 
they had not all come back to him. I an- 
swered that some five or six families seemed 
to linger, but that I had not tried to keep 



86 REMINISCENCES 

them. I had even abstained from visiting 
his people unless there was sickness, or 
some special request. "I know it, " he said ; 
"but I am glad they; are staying. And if I 
could have my way we would all be back in 
the old Church we ought never to have left." 
And when I asked why he did not come, he 
said, "Because I am a Beecher. I cannot 
work in harness. I should kick over the 
traces and make you a great deal of trouble. ' ' 

Our close association continued. He was 
at my house or I at his almost every week. 
On one occasion he found me lying on a 
lounge in my study suffering from a heavy 
cold. "Has Brother H. (the rector of the 
other church) been to see you?" I an- 
swered no, that I was not sick enough for 
that. "Then he has failed in his duty.'" 

"No," I answered, "if there was any fail- 
ure it was mine, for the Prayer Book says 
that when anyone is sick notice shall be 
given to the minister; and I did not give 
notice." 

He presently asked for a Prayer Book, 
and having it he found the place he was 
seeking, and said to me, "I have opened at 



KEMINISCENCES 87 

the Office for the Visitation of the Sick. 
Do you think it would lose any of its efficacy 
if it was said by Congregational lips? I 
would like to read it to you." I welcomed 
the suggestion, and he went through it very 
earnestly, kneeling at the prayers, and 
standing to say the Creed. 

Some weeks later he told me that there 
was a family in his congregation which did 
not belong there, but belonged to me, and he 
wanted me to go after them. They were 
English; not poor, nor ignorant, but good 
and useful. He said that going through his 
Sunday School he noticed a newcomer. 
Asking his name, the answer was, " Ed- 
ward." "Who gave you this name?" was 
the next question, and the lad answered, 
"My godfathers and godmothers in Bap- 
tism." "You do not belong here," was 
Mr. Beecher's answer, and the lad said, 
"They told us that this was the English 
Church." "Yes," said Mr. Beecher, "we 
speak English, but you mean the Church of 
England. That is oyer on the other corner, 
and I will ask the minister to find you." 

After awhile, in his impulsive way, he 



88 BEMINISCENCES 

tried to bring the Prayer Book into use in 
his own congregation. He said one Sun- 
day, that he had been with them many years, 
and they had made him do all the work. 
They ought to help him more. How ? Per- 
haps they would like to take part in the 
preaching, but he wanted to keep that to 
himself. But they might help him in pray- 
ing.. Hitherto he had prayed alone and 
they had listened. He wanted them to pray 
with him. "If so, we must all say the same 
thing, must agree on the words ; there must 
be a form for the prayers. And a form of 
prayers is a Liturgy. Now, I have seen 
many books called Liturgies, but there is 
only one book in the English language which 
is worthy of the name, and that is the Book 
of Common Prayer. It was composed — I 
beg pardon, it was not composed. It grew. 
It began to grow when the New Testament 
did." And then after giving a grand eu- 
logy of the Prayer Book, he said: "Now, I 
have asked the book-sellers to get a hundred 
cheap copies of it. I want you to buy them. 
I will not ask you to bring them here just 
yet, but on pages 4 and 5 you will find what is 



REMINISCENCES 89 

called the General Confession. I want you 
to commit that to memory. I will give you 
two weeks. And, by the way, if any of you 
do not know the Lord's Prayer, you will 
find it right after it. And two weeks from 
to-day we will begin to use it here, all speak- 
ing together. But how? Over at Trinity 
Church where they do it well, they all kneel. 
But Congregational knees are stiff, and we 
are used to stand while praying. Now, I 
read that the Lord kneeled down when he 
prayed, and that St. Paul kneeled to pray 
on the seashore. But if any of you feel 
that you can confess your sins more truly 
and humbly while standing, do so. For my 
part, I will kneel as the Lord did." 

Some four months after Mr. Beecher 's 
sailing, his brother, the Rev. James Beecher, 
came to take his place. Some of the Con- 
gregationalists went back, but at least one- 
half stayed with me. 

One day I was called into the parlor to see 
a lady and gentleman. The man introduced 
himself as " James Beecher, brother of 
Tom, whom I think you know. At least he 
knows you, and says he loves you. I have 



90 REMINISCENCES 

come to take his place until his return." 
Then introducing the lady as his wife, he 
added, "My wife is not a Congregationalist, 
but an Episcopalian (I beg pardon, my 
dear, I should have said Churchwoman, but 
I do not often make that mistake). She 
has come to ask pastoral advice. I will go 
into your study, if you permit, while she 
talks with you.' ' 

She said, "Yes, I attend my husband's 
services generally; but always on the first 
Sunday of the month, and the holy days, I 
go to my own Church for the Holy Com- 
munion. Now, my husband has his Con- 
gregational Sunday School at his church; 
but we live some two miles out of town, and 
there are many neglected children there. I 
have gathered forty or fifty, and am going 
to have a Sunday School. I am to be 
superintendent, and my husband is to be 
one of the teachers. I want your advice, 
that it may be as much like yours as possible. 
What prayers and what hymns shall we use ? 
"What books? What order of studies? 
And if you could visit it sometimes we would 
be very glad." 



KEMINISCENCES 91 

I arranged a full program, and Mr. 
Beecher, returning to the room, said that 
he understood and approved all that his 
wife was doing; that out there he would be 
a thorough Churchman, and teach just as 
I wanted him to do. "By the way," he 
asked, "is your Bishop coming before long 
for Confirmation ?" And when I said that 
he was expected in about three months, he 
asked whether if they got some children 
ready to be confirmed, they might bring 
them. Surprised, I said, "Yes, certainly, 
but first I must examine them." 

"You want them to know your Catechism. 
I know it by heart, and love it. I will see 
that they know it, and will try to give any 
special instruction about it that you wish." 

About ten days before the Confirmation, 
they brought me fourteen children. I 
found them admirably taught, and on the 
day of Confirmation, after my own candi- 
dates had been presented, they brought 
up and presented their fourteen. 

Mr. James Beecher at that first interview 
told me of a remarkable incident in his own 
life. He said that his first receiving of 



92 REMINISCENCES 

the Holy Communion, and his first two 
years of communicant life, was in the 
Episcopal Church, and it always seemed 
home to him; that during our Civil War 
he had been a chaplain in the United 
States Army, but grew out of that into 
active service, and became colonel, and 
acting brigadier general. He was sta- 
tioned for some time in one of the South- 
ern States, and while there regularly at- 
tended the Episcopal Church and received 
the Communion. He became very intimate 
with the aged rector, who came to him later 
to ask a pass for a friend who wished to go 
North. Beecher knew that it was to get 
supplies and information, and he was obliged 
to refuse. This displeased the rector, and 
made him ready to receive the reports and 
insinuations which soldiers were always 
ready to give. A friend came to Mr. 
Beecher and told him that the rector had 
said that should Mr. Beecher present him- 
self again for Communion, he would not 
administer to him. 

The next Communion Sunday Mr. 
Beecher was in his usual place in church, 



REMINISCENCES 93 

and after all the others had received, and 
the clergyman paused to see if others were 
coming, Mr. Beecher rose and said, " Rev- 
erend sir, I am informed that you have 
said that if I should present myself for 
the Holy Communion you would not ad- 
minister to me. And in the Name of Him 
who died on the cross for sinners, for you, 
and for me, I ask what grievous crime is 
charged against me, by reason of which 
I may not be permitted to receive the Body 
and Blood of my Lord ? ' ' 

There was a silence of two or three min- 
utes. The rector grew very pale, his color 
came back, and drawing a full breath he 
said, "Ye who do truly and earnestly repent 
you of your sins, and are in love and charity 
with your neighbors, and intend to lead a 
new life . . . draw near with faith and 
take this holy Sacrament to your comfort." 
He went forward, received, and they were 
good friends again. 



EECTORSHIP AT CHRIST'S 
CHURCH, WILLIAMSPORT, 

PENNA., 1868-1876 



CHAPTER VI 

RECTORSHIP AT CHRIST CHURCH, WILLIAMS- 
PORT, PENNA., 1868-1876 

I was willing after a time to leave Blmira, 
and when a call came (utterly unsought) to 
the rectorship of Christ Church, Williams- 
port, Penna., I promptly accepted it, 5 and 
there I passed eight years of happy, and I 
think useful work. 

The financial arrangement was very pe- 
culiar. My predecessor had been called at 
a salary of $1,000 and rectory to a pew- 
rented church. He declined that arrange- 
ment, but said that if they would let him 
take off the pew doors, make the seats all 
free, and put a card in each pew explaining 
that all morning offerings would go to the 
rector's salary, and the evening offerings 
must supply needs for mission, charity, and 
parish expenses, he would come. The 
vestry demurred, saying it would not pro- 

5 1868 to 1876. 



98 EEMINISCENCES 

vide the $1,000. But on his insisting, they 
yielded. The first year the morning offer- 
ings were $1,100, the second year still larger ; 
and in my first year they reached $1,800. 
And I had a vestry and people who stood by 
me lovingly. 

Among many pleasant experiences with 
neighboring ministers, was one with a 
Methodist Minister. A committee includ- 
ing a Presbyterian, a Congregationalist, 
and a Baptist Minister, called on me ask- 
ing my signature to a document which 
claimed to be a protest from "the clergy of 
the city," against certain things which were 
thought to be in use at the Methodist camp 
meeting grounds some miles out of the city. 
The protest was very severe indeed in its 
terms, asserting that the Methodists in 
charge were violating Christian principles 
and dishonoring our Lord, by permitting 
milk, ice and other necessaries to be delivered 
on Sunday. I declined to sign, giving as 
one reason, that I had no knowledge in the 
case. "But we assure you of the facts," 
they said. And my answer was that when 
I signed a paper it was understood to be 



REMINISCENCES 99 

on my own personal knowledge, and that 
besides, I counted their government of their 
own religious assemblies and usages, as 
matters of their responsibility and not of 
mine; that we, of the Episcopal Church, 
were sometimes charged with exclusiveness, 
but it was because we believed in minding 
our own business, and leaving others free 
for theirs. And in spite of urging, I de- 
clined to sign. 

Not long after I was stopped on the street 
by one who introduced himself as the Metho- 
dist Presiding Elder. He said he had re- 
ceived that protest, and noticed that my 
name was not signed. He asked whether 
my signature had been asked, and, if so, 
whether I had refused it, and why. I gave 
him my reasons, as I have given them above. 
Again grasping my hand, he thanked me, 
and said, "I do not care a fig for their pro- 
test, but I do care for and want your judg- 
ment. Let me tell you all that we do at 
that camp meeting ground; and if you say 
that any of it is really wrong, it shall be 
changed." But I kindly and firmly ad- 
hered to my position of not interfering ; and 



100 REMINISCENCES 

the relations between the Methodists and 
myself were very kind. 

The Roman Priest, Father Stack, once 
proposed to me a clerical hunting party, 
there being many pigeons and squirrels close 
at hand. I said that twelve or fourteen 
ministers going together with guns on their 
shoulders would alarm the people, and I 
suggested hunting in couples. I took the 
Methodist Minister, the Rev. Mr. E., after- 
wards well known as a Presiding Elder. 
We tramped the woods for several hours. 
Game was plentiful, but we were too busy 
in talking to see much of it. I shot one pig- 
eon, and he one squirrel. He had said to 
me that he wanted to ask me a question, and 
get a short, sharp answer, without any ifs 
or buts. I agreed, on condition that I might 
ask a question and get the same kind of an- 
swer. The first question falling to my lot, I 
said, "If John Wesley were to return to life 
and live in Williamsport, would he go to 
your Church, or go to mine ? ' ' " That needs 
some explanation," he said; and I said, "No 
ifs or buts ! ' ? "I give it up, — Wesley would 
go to yours." "Why then," I asked, "if 



KEMINISCENCES 101 

you are a follower of John Wesley, do you 
not follow him in that respect?" His an- 
swer was ingenious: "Wesley was a blind 
instrument in the hand of Providence. God 
used him to open a wide door, and we went 
through it." 

The new Christ Church, half built when I 
went there, but completed during my first 
years, was an excellent stone building, and 
well filled not only by the wealthier people, 
but, to my great pleasure, by a large num- 
ber of the men and their families who 
worked in the saw-mills, lumber-yards, 
foundries and factories. The architecture 
and arrangements were entirely in agree- 
ment with the advice given by some of the 
eminent architects in England, when they 
were asked how churches should be built in 
order to secure the attendance of the masses. 
Their answer was, "Make them quite large, 
very rich towards God, and very plain and 
simple towards man." Our church was not 
carpeted nor cushioned; and I think that 
was one reason why the plainer people felt 
at home. Presently the ladies proposed to 
cushion and carpet. I objected, saying it 



102 REMINISCENCES 

would give an air of proprietorship for the 
rich, and I should lose some of my poor peo- 
ple. But the ladies prevailed, the improve- 
ment ( ?) was made, and in four months I 
had lost almost one half of the plainer part 
of my flock. I am sure that here lies the 
secret of the large attendance of the plainer 
people in the great cathedrals and churches 
of Europe. They are rich toward God ; but 
there is no provision for luxurious ease for 
the people. There are no carpets or cush- 
ions, only very plain seats, or chairs. 

My mission chapel at Swampoodle, in the 
suburbs, with its quite plain congregations, 
furnished some strange and amusing inci- 
dents. After afternoon service, at which all 
the Sunday School (a very large one), re- 
mained, I superintended and catechized. I 
had exchanged one Sunday with the Rev. 
Leighton Coleman, afterwards Bishop of 
Delaware. After the service, in talking to 
the children, he very earnestly urged them 
to be always prompt and early in attend- 
ance; and as he was still urging and illus- 
trating, a boy, stepping out from his seat, 
raised his hand, saying, " Mister, Mister 



KEMINISCENCES 103 

preacher! I always do come early, but I 
tell you I have to run like the very devil to 
doit!" 

On another Sunday, catechizing about the 
Ten Commandments I asked who gave them 
to the people, and the many- voiced answer 
came, " Moses." I explained that God gave 
the Commandments and Moses only passed 
them on to the people. "Now, once more, 
who gave the Commandments?" And this 
time the loud answer came right. But as it 
ended, a single voice said, "Moses." It was 
a little boy of ten, George B. McClellan 
Yeager. I explained to him again, and 
again asked the question. When the right 
answer from the whole school ended, again 
George said, "Moses." A third time I ex- 
plained to him personally, again asked the 
question, and again his answer was "Mo- 
ses." Presently I had to give out some 
prizes for good behavior, and the first name 
on the list was George's. Calling him up I 
held out the little book, then drawing it back 
I sent him to his seat, and calling his teacher, 
asked her to hand him the book. i i George, ' ' 
I said, "who gave you that book?" "You 



104 KEMINISCENCES 

did, sir." "Did not Miss Edwards give it 
to you?" "No, she only handed it to me." 
"That is what I said about the Command- 
ments. God gave them and Moses only 
handed them to the people. Don't you un- 
derstand it now ? ' ' He said he did. ' ' Now, 
once more, the whole school, who gave the 
Commandments % ' ' 

The loud-voiced answer was right, and 
then came George's voice, — "I stick to 
Moses!" 



FROM 1876 TO 1885 AT WASHINGTON 



CHAPTER VII 
from 1876 to 1885 at Washington 

My rectorship at Williamsport lasted very 
happily for some eight years, from 1868 to 
1876, and it would have lasted much longer, 
but for an unexpected call to the rectorship 
of one of the most important parishes in the 
land ; the Church of the Epiphany at Wash- 
ington. My acceptance was only after a 
visit to Washington, and a full understand- 
ing with the vestry. I asked what they did 
for the poor; and the answer was that the 
parish had no poor ; every pew was let. And 
I said then I could not come, for a church 
without any poor was too spiritually poor to 
be useful. They asked what I could do for 
the poor; build chapels? I said, "No, no 
money spent on brick and mortar unless it 
becomes an absolute necessity. Take a les- 
son from the Romanists. Use the same 
church building more often, and instead of 



108 EEMINISCENCES 

brick and mortar, let me have two assistants 
instead of one, and four or five services on 
Sunday instead of two ; and at least three of 
them with free seats." 

I also suggested the need of more fre- 
quent administrations of Holy Communion, 
because with seats all rented, no poor people 
could ever come to it. After suggesting some 
other possibilities, I left them to consider, 
and a half hour later they called me back, 
saying I had suggested some things of which 
they had never thought ; and that if I could 
give them more spiritual privileges, and 
show them how to do better work, I might 
be sure of full confidence and support from 
both vestry and people. That promise was 
grandly kept ; and I do not think there was 
anywhere a better or better working vestry, 
or a truer and better working people than 
those of that parish. My eight years in that 
charge (from October, 1876, to January, 
1885) brought me much satisfaction in the 
work, and many true and faithful friends; 
and it was very rich with incidents of inter- 
est. 

I found about 350 communicants when I 



REMINISCENCES 109 

went there, and at my leaving there were 
about 1,400. There were strict parish 
boundaries in that city, marked out by 
streets. Epiphany Parish was very large, 
having at one end some of the best resi- 
dences, and at the other, near the Potomac, 
many of the worst and vilest. Feeling my 
responsibility for all within its lines, and 
having succeeded somewhat in reaching and 
helping to Christianize many of the very 
poor women, my thoughts turned to the neg- 
lected and neglectful men of the same dis- 
trict. I told the assistant minister that I 
would relieve him from all week day duty 
at the parish church, for two months, if he 
would give his whole time to seeking the men 
in that poorer part ; and that he should give 
two evenings weekly for going to their 
houses after working hours. He tried faith- 
fully, but reported that there were no results. 
We then changed work. He took the week 
day duty at the church, and I for two months, 
gave my whole time to that missionary effort. 
I do not think I ever did more faithful 
work, but I, too, found almost no results. 
Then remembering that it was he and I,; — 



110 REMINISCENCES 

men, — who by personal work gained those 
women, I reversed the idea, and sent women 
to seek and bring the men ; and the plan was 
successful. We gathered, in a rented house, 
what we called the Men's Meeting, for men 
alone, every Monday night ; but women were 
to be the only workers. Beginning with 
only five or six men, it grew rapidly until 
in some three months there were more than 
80 in regular attendance. The two or three 
ladies in charge made the evenings interest- 
ing by illustrated papers, magazines, songs, 
chess, checkers, etc., and at half -past nine 
every man had coffee and sandwiches. 

But it was not an ordinary " Settlement" 
work. It was distinctly Church settlement 
work. "We were not afraid, nor ashamed 
of Christ and His Church. We began with 
only the Lord's Prayer. The men them- 
selves soon asked for more prayers, and for 
hymns, and that I should come and speak to 
them. Soon the Confession and Creed fol- 
lowed; each man had them on a printed card. 
Bishop Pinkney visited it with me one even- 
ing and said that he had never heard the 
Creed so grandly said. During the remain- 



KEMINISCENCES 111 

ing years of my stay in that parish I had 
the happy privilege of baptizing and pre- 
senting for confirmation fully one hundred 
of the men who had been so gathered out of 
vile surroundings and influences. The 
growth of the work compelled us to build a 
modest chapel on the adjoining lot, and to 
establish regular morning services and Sun- 
day School. It was a fair illustration of a 
principle on which I have always acted, that 
the truest and best charitable work was that 
which was distinctly Christian. Our Lord 
made His bodily works of mercy and His 
spiritual teaching go together and help each 
other. 

When I became Bishop there were one 
or two so-called " Settlement" works begun 
in Baltimore by our own Church people, in 
which, to make them as they thought popu- 
lar by being "unsectarian," they practically 
excluded all religion. Inviting me to visit 
them they asked that I would have no pray- 
ers, and say nothing specially religious. I 
declined to go. One of these settlements, 
founded by some members of St. Stephen's 
Church, was called St. Stephen's Club. I 



112 REMINISCENCES 

told them to take down that name, for St. 
Stephen gave up life rather than disown his 
Lord. 

The " Men's Meeting" brings me some 
very pleasant remembrances. One evening 
the lady in charge told me there was a man 
near the door who would surely make trou- 
ble ; he was half drunk, and swearing to him- 
self. Looking around'I saw two of my men, 
who, some eighteen months before were al- 
most as bad, but were now earnest Chris- 
tians. I went to them and asked them to 
help me by taking that man into a far corner 
and mounting guard over him. A little later 
one of them came to me saying, "Dr. Paret, 
we are going to have that man here next 
week, and have him here sober." The next 
week he was there, sober ; and they said, "We 
are going to watch him, and try to help him. ' ' 
By God's grace the man was saved, through 
their zeal, and became useful and trusted. 

I might add many instances confirming 
my position that the poor are more helped 
by openly Christian charity than in any 
other way; that they are not repelled, but 
rather won and held by our being faithful 



REMINISCENCES 113 

to Christ and His Church, and by speaking 
boldly in His Name, as St. Paul prayed for 
grace to do. 

About a week before a Confirmation ap- 
pointed for the Mission, at which some thirty 
or forty men were to be confirmed, the good 
lady in charge for the evening told me that 
some of the men wanted to ask me questions. 
I called all who wished to ask to follow me 
up to the smoking-room, and nearly all who 
were to be confirmed did so. After my an- 
swering many questions as to their personal 
duty, they went downstairs, but one man 
seemed to linger. "Well, Edward," I said, 
"I am glad you have just been baptized, and 
you are, I am sure." And when he an- 
swered, "Yes," I added, "And I am glad you 
are going to be confirmed." "But I am not 
going to be confirmed." "Oh, yes," I said, 
"you promised it, and if you were prepared 
to be baptized, you are ready to be confirmed. 
You must be. Tell me what is the trouble." 

"Mr. Paret, you did not know me eighteen 
months ago." I said I had only known him 
about a year. "If you had," he said, "you 
would have known the wickedest man in 



114 EEMINISCBNCES 

Washington. I was an awful swearer. If 
my work went well, I swore ; if it went wrong 
I swore worse. When I went home and be- 
gan to talk to my wife or children, I was 
swearing all the time. One evening, in a 
speech you made at the Mission, you said 
something about swearing. I thought you 
meant me, and I began to get angry. But 
you stopped just in time. It made me think. 
I was ashamed to go to you, so I went to Mr. 
M. (the assistant minister), and asked him 
if a man who had been for many years an 
awful swearer, could be cured of it. And 
he said he could, by the help of God's grace. 
And when I asked how I could get that help, 
he wrote on a paper a little prayer in two or 
three lines, told me to learn it, to say it every 
morning and night, and every time I caught 
myself swearing. I began, but it was an 
awful fight. Yet do you know, until to- 
night, I have not sworn an oath for four 
months; but to-night (it was winter, and 
the six stone steps at the front door were 
very icy), when I came in, my foot slipped at 
the top step, and I swore all the way to the 
bottom." 



REMINISCENCES 115 

"Yes," I said, "the devil is making a hard 
fight for you, but you must not let him win. 
All the more need for the help that will come 
to you in Confirmation. ' ' And, with further 
persuasion, he yielded, — was confirmed, and 
I knew him for years afterwards as an ear- 
nest, helpful Christian man. 

The fact that my parish church had so 
very large a proportion of men, and many of 
them men of high standing, reputation and 
influence, made me think seriously of my 
special duties towards men. My early ex- 
perience in the Ministry had shown me, what 
was confirmed later by my oversight of other 
clergyman in my office as bishop, — that most 
clergymen find it much easier to speak to 
women than to speak to men about their spir- 
itual condition and duties. The approach to 
men does not seem easy. I determined not to 
have "the fear of men," but to speak boldly. 
One of the members of my congregation, a 
man of lovely character (whose wife and 
daughter were communicants), while a reg- 
ular attendant at the services, had never been 
baptized. I went to his office and asked for 
an hour's interview on a very important 



116 EEMINISCENCES 

matter. He gave it, and I began by telling 
him it was a duty that I owed both to my- 
self and to him. I wanted to speak to him 
about his relation to God, and his duty to 
God and to himself. And I promised that 
if he would hear me fully, I would feel that 
my conscience was clear. 

The interview was held, and after asking 
him why he was not baptized and confirmed, 
I kindly but very plainly, urged it as a duty 
to God, a duty to himself, a duty to his own 
household, and a duty to the community, that 
his influence and example might be plainly 
on God's side. The conversation was long 
and full, and he asked many thoughtful ques- 
tions. I closed by again asserting that having 
cleared my own conscience, I left the further 
responsibility with him; and that I would 
not again approach him privately on that 
matter unless he should request me to do so. 
A fortnight after, meeting him in the street, 
he stopped me, and referring to my promise 
not so to speak to him again until he asked 
it, he said that now he did ask it. And the 
result was that within a month he was bap- 
tized. 



EEMINISOENOES 117 

Similar good fruit came in the cases of 
several public men, one of them a judge of 
the Supreme Court, and all men older than 
myself. 

During my eight years' residence in 
Washington, I was many times brought into 
interesting relations with public men. The 
Surgeon General of the United States Army, 
General Barnes, was a communicant and 
vestryman. When he was very ill with a 
sickness that he knew would be fatal, and 
I was visiting him daily, he asked that I 
should sometimes come to him for prayers 
late in the evening, just before his sleeping. 
Going for that purpose one evening at nearly 
ten o'clock, I found the President of the 
United States, President Grant, seated at 
his bedside. The President recognized me, 
and said that since I had probably come for 
a pastoral visit, he would be in the way and 
would withdraw. I told him that I did 
come for prayers, but that he would not be 
in the way. "If I may stay and join in the 
prayers," he said, "I would be glad to do so. 
Barnes and I were together at West Point, 
and in the Mexican War, and have always 



118 REMINISCENCES 

been friends. And it is one of the comforts 
and reliefs in my busy life that I am able to 
come sometimes and sit up with him at 
night." 

Another Presidential incident relates to 
President Arthur. On the death of Presi- 
dent Garfield, Mr. Arthur succeeded to the 
office. He was a Churchman. One of my 
vestrymen asked me to go with him and call 
on the President, with whom he was well 
acquainted. He knew that the President, 
if he had his own way, would attend at my 
parish church of the Epiphany, yet very 
strong pressure was used to take him else- 
where ; and that if I would go and give a per- 
sonal earnest request and invitation, he was 
almost sure that would secure him. After a 
moment or two of thought, I said, "I cannot 
do it. Tell me of some poor man, or plain 
man who needs my urging to bring him to 
church, and I will gladly go to him. But I 
will not solicit a rich man, or one high in 
position to patronize the Church by his 
presence." 

Some weeks later, walking on Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue, I met the President. He 



REMINISCENCES 119 

stopped and said lie wanted to walk a little 
way with me; and as we walked lie said, "I 
heard of your declining to call on me, and 
of the reason you gave for it. And I am 
glad you took that position. It was right, 
and I honor you for it. My personal pref- 
erences would take me to Epiphany Church ; 
but very strong influences, and the pressure 
of long tradition, seem to say that the Pres- 
ident, if a Churchman, should go to St. 
John's where there is a state pew set apart 
for him. But if you cannot come to see me 
for that particular purpose, do come and see 
me as a friend." 

I recall also a meeting (after I had be- 
come Bishop of Maryland) with President 
Cleveland at the beginning of his second 
term. There was much anxiety at the time 
about what was known as the Chinese Ex- 
clusion Act. It was very severe indeed in 
its terms, and in the method of its enforce- 
ment. The Chinese Government was 
threatening severe measures in retaliation; 
and at a meeting of the House of Bishops 
when it was felt that our missionary opera- 
tions, and our clergy, and colleges and hos- 



120 BEMINISCENCES 

pitals, and other property in China were en- 
dangered, action was taken to ask of the 
President his protection for our interests. 
A commission of five bishops was appointed 
to secure an interview ; and since Washing- 
ton was in my Diocese, I was made the chair- 
man. The interview was appointed, and 
the night before it, the five bishops met to 
study the matter. We took a printed copy 
of the Act, and marked all the objectionable 
features, with our suggestions for a change ; 
and they requested me to be the spokesman. 

The next day passing through a crowd of 
office-seekers, all claiming promised inter- 
views, we were taken into the President's 
library where he, and the Secretary of State, 
soon appeared. I introduced the other 
bishops, and began to speak about our pur- 
pose. But the President stopped me say- 
ing, "Do not begin business so quickly; let 
us talk about something else. Yours are 
the first faces I have seen for days that were 
not those of hungry office-seekers." 

But it was not easy to talk at the word 
of command, and there was a short silence, 
till the President asked, "Do any of you 



REMINISCENCES 121 

fish?" I answered that I was a fisherman, 
and two or three fishing stories were ex- 
changed between him and myself. 

This opened the way pleasantly for our 
business. I said that though bishops, we 
had come to him as citizens, feeling that all 
citizens had a right to seek the President's 
protection for their interests when endan- 
gered in foreign lands, and that interests 
very dear to us were so endangered by rea- 
son of the Chinese Exclusion Bill. Grant- 
ing our right to seek his help, he said that he 
was ashamed to say it, but that he knew very 
little about that Bill, his time having been 
so occupied of late by election campaign 
matters. "But tell me about it," he said. 
I read and explained the points from our 
marked paper, and then from the instruc- 
tions of the Secretary of the Treasury; "Not 
yours, Mr. President, but your predeces- 
sor's." After hearing them, and asking 
many questions, he said, "They do seem 
needlessly severe, but I do not see how I can 
help you. I did not make that law; I can- 
not change it. I am only an executive offi- 
cer whose sworn duty it is to do all I can to 



122 EEMINISCENCES 

see that the laws of the country are en- 
forced. Yet you may have a remedy. The 
constitutionality of this law has been ques- 
tioned, and the Supreme Court will in a few 
weeks decide that point. If they say it is 
not constitutional you have what you ask. 
If not, I must see that the law is enforced." 

"But, Mr. President," I said, "there are 
two ways of enforcing such a law." "No, 
no!" he said. "Only one straightforward 
honest action. " "I beg your pardon, ' ' I an- 
swered, "such a law could be enforced either 
with the utmost possible severity, or with the 
utmost possible gentleness." 

He said that there might be such a dis- 
tinction, and then put out his hand to dis- 
miss us. But instead of taking it, I said, 
"Mr. President, we were hoping that we 
might have some assurance from you." 

"What assurance could I give?" 

"We hoped for your promise that if you 
had to enforce the law, it should be with the 
utmost possible gentleness." 

He seemed to grow angry, and said, "Do 
you know that you are making a very strange 
demand?" 



REMINISCENCES 123 

"Not a demand, " I answered, "but only 
the expression of a hope." Presently the 
smile came back, and again he put out his 
hand saying, "Well, I promise. If I have 
to enforce that law, it shall be with the ut- 
most possible gentleness." 

Two weeks later the Supreme Court de- 
clared that the law was constitutional. Soon 
after that an official notice was published 
cancelling the former Secretary's very se- 
vere instructions, and issuing new ones in 
which every change we asked had been made. 
And a little later an informal notice ap- 
peared that the President was not able to 
enforce the law very strictly, since it would 
require an expenditure of several hundred 
thousand dollars for which Congress had 
made no appropriation. 6 

6 An interesting incident concerning one of the Vice-presi- 
dents was often told by Bishop Paret. At the Centennial of 
the Laying of the Corner Stone of the Capitol in Washington 
in September, 1893, Bishop Paret was to have the opening 
prayer at the exercises at the Capitol, and Vice-president 
Stevenson one of the principal addresses. The exercises were 
held on a grand-stand in front of the Capitol, and a strong 
wind was blowing at the time. In a short conversation with 
the Vice-president, Bishop Paret said that he feared the Vice- 
president's speech would not be heard by many of the people 
as the wind was in the wrong direction. "That is where you 



124 KEMINISCENCES 

Again, during the Administration of Pres- 
ident McKinley, the House of Bishops ap- 
pointed a commission to see the President 
and try to secure better arrangements for 
insuring efficiency and helpfulness in the 
service of the chaplains in the Army and 
Navy, and especially those who were of our 
own Church. And once more I was made 
the chairman. Telling him of our purpose, 
I said we felt that most of the chaplains were 
unhelpful and often unworthy men ; that the 
office was almost always given through po- 
litical influence of senators, or others, with- 
out regard to real fitness for the work ; and 
for the good of the soldiers and sailors, and 
for the credit and influence of the Church, 
we wished to suggest a way for improve- 
ment. We asked that hereafter no clergy- 
man of the Protestant Episcopal Church 
should have such appointment without an 
assurance from his own bishop that he would 
be a worthy and useful man. 

' ' Impossible ! Impossible ! ' ' exclaimed 

have the advantage of me," returned the Vice-president. " In 
what way?" asked the Bishop. "Because He to Whom you 
speak always hears." 



REMINISCENCES 125 

the President. "Why our chaplains are from 
all denominations, Presbyterians, Baptists, 
Congregationalists, and others, who have no 
bishops; and we must treat all alike." 

We continued our argument, and there 
was a long debate. At last I asked him who 
were the best chaplains in the service. He 
said they were Eoman Catholics, and I knew 
that would be his answer. 

"But, Mr. President, do you ever appoint 
a Eoman Catholic chaplain except upon the 
request and assurance of his bishop?" 

He dodged the question, and began to talk 
about something else. A second time I 
asked it, and a second time he evaded it. I 
asked it a third time, and then he answered, 
"You know they have their own peculiar 
methods of watchfulness and influence with 
us." "Yes," I replied, "but you said you 
must treat all alike. Give us the same priv- 
ileges you give to them, and wait before ap- 
pointing any of our clergy until you hear 
from his bishop." After a little more de- 
murring he yielded, and gave the orders; 
and during his Administration they were 
obeyed. I, as Bishop of Maryland, received 



126 REMINISCENCES 

four requests for such information. Of 
three I answered unfavorably. One had my 
approval, and he only was appointed. But 
I fear the rule was afterwards forgotten. 

In connection with Epiphany Church 
there are some very pleasant memories about 
money matters. I have never been a money- 
raiser, nor in the habit of making any per- 
sonal appeals for gifts for the Church. I 
only, when need came, stated the case in a 
plain business-like way, in church, or in 
printed appeals, and left it to the con- 
sciences of others to determine their action. 
And the results were good. For instance, 
the Epiphany Church Home was in debt. I 
mentioned the fact at one of the Church 
services, and stated my hope that some way 
might be found for meeting it. The next 
week a generous Churchwoman called on me 
and asked what the amount of the debt was. 
I told her, I think, about $2,500. She 
wanted to know exactly, and after study I 
named the exact sum. She turned to the 
desk, drew her check for that amount, and 
asked me to see that the debt was cancelled 
at once. 



EBMINISCBNCES 127 

I needed money to sustain the work of the 
Men's Meeting at the Epiphany Mission. I 
mentioned at a Sunday morning service our 
responsibility for that needy part of the 
parish, and told how we were trying to meet 
it. I added that the actual labor and serv- 
ice was to be done by women alone, but it 
would cost $1,000 a year to maintain it, and 
I thought the men should provide that. I 
said I would not have a collection in church, 
nor send out a subscription list, but that I 
left the responsibility with them. If within 
the next two weeks that amount should be 
sent to me, I would know that the parish- 
ioners approved and would sustain the work. 
If not, it would be abandoned. Within ten 
days I received fully $1,200. 

I might give many more interesting in- 
cidents. I will only add that while Wash- 
ington as a city of political life, and of much 
wealth has been thought by some to be es- 
pecially worldly, I have never known a place 
where the Lord's Day was better observed, 
and where attendance at church was so gen- 
eral and constant, and especially on the part 
of the men. I have heard, also, the insinu- 



128 REMINISCENCES 

ation, that the ladies in Washington were 
given up to the ways of fashionable society ; 
the round of calls and receptions. My ex- 
perience did not prove it so. True, some 
whose husbands held official positions were 
bound for their sakes to the fulfilment of 
many social duties. But I have never 
known women more earnest as Christians, 
or more ready and helpful to aid me in the 
work among the poor, the sick, the ignorant 
and neglected, than the helpers I found 
among the wives and daughters of senators, 
cabinet officers, and judges. 

It was during the time of my rectorship 
in Washington that I was able to take my 
first voyage to Europe. Taking with me my 
youngest son, I sailed in the year 1881. 
There is no need to tell the general incidents 
of the three months ' travel. They were only 
the repetition of the usual experiences of 
tourists. But there was one part that does 
call for record. I had, some years before, 
found among papers left by my father, sev- 
eral letters from his grandmother, my great 
grandmother, written from the old family 
home in France to her son in New York, my 



REMINISCENCES 129 

grandfather. They were dated about the 
year 1765, and were very quaint and inter- 
esting with their details of simple home life, 
and neighborhood affairs. By the help of 
these letters I had been able to locate the old 
family home. It was in the Commune of 
Latour, not a town or village, but made up of 
farms; near the village of Tricolet in the 
Department of Correze, in that part of 
Southern France known as Auvergne. 

One of the plans of my journey was to 
visit that place. It was far off the beaten 
track of railroads, the nearest town of any 
size, Brive, being some sixteen miles dis- 
tant. We drove there from Brive early on 
Sunday morning; choosing that day that I 
might be sure of meeting the priest of the 
Roman Church. 

The parish church of St. Eutrope, was at 
Tricolet, about seven miles from Latour. 1 
was sorry that we reached it too late for the 
service. It was a rude building of early 
irregular Norman architecture, built in the 
thirteenth century. I was able, a little 
later, to find the priest at his house, and had 
an hour of very pleasant and helpful con- 



130 REMINISCENCES 

versation. He told me that the family place 
had been under the Paret ownership for 
some 200 years; that the present occupant 
was Barthelemy Paret, a man of over 
eighty years, and that, as he had no sons, the 
property would at his death, lose the family 
name. At the close of our conversation he 
said, laughing, that I must take an inter- 
preter with me. I thought, at first, that he 
meant a little criticism of my imperfect 
French. But he explained .by saying that 
the old gentleman did not speak French, nor 
understand it ; that he was one of a few of 
nearly the same age who prided themselves 
on keeping the old patois, the Provencal 
language called Langue d' Oc. Taking a 
young man as interpreter, we found the old 
gentleman living alone in his comfortable 
stone house with its stone floors. His two 
married daughters, living very near and on 
the same property, kept his house in order 
and provided for him. Learning from our 
interpreter who I was, he sent for those 
daughters and their families, for a relative 
from America was something remarkable in 
their lives. It being Sunday they were all 



REMINISCENCES 131 

free, and the daughters, their husbands and 
their children soon appeared. For nearly 
two hours the conversation went on through 
three languages ; I first telling, in English to 
my son, what I was going to say; then re- 
peating it in French, and our interpreter 
repeated it in their rough dialect. The an- 
swers filtered back in the same way. Bar- 
thelemy Paret proved to be second or third 
cousin to my father. He remembered the 
family stories about my grandfather and his 
going to America, and told me many things 
of interest about his earlier days, and their 
life and ways. 

When I rose to depart he said that I could 
not go until we had eaten bread and drunk 
wine together. The bread, he said, was 
from wheat grown on their own farm, and 
the wine from their own vines; and he 
thought they had one of the best wine farms 
in France. This being ended, he came to me 
to say farewell with the kiss in the French 
manner, he kissing me on each cheek, and 
receiving my two kisses in return. His two 
sons-in-law followed doing the same, and 
passing from me to my son. Then the two 



132 EEMINISCENOES 

daughters ; then the children. I think there 
were eighteen girls and four boys. All was 
in absolute silence, as solemn as a funeral 
procession. After we were out of the house, 
we counted up the kisses; the old man, the 
sons-in-law, and daughters, the twenty-two 
children, twenty-seven in all. Four times 
twenty-seven would be one hundred and 
eight kisses to each of us ; two hundred and 
sixteen in all. 



AS BISHOP OP MAKYLAND 



CHAPTER VIII 

AS BISHOP OF MARYLAND 

In my work in Epiphany Parish, I felt 
that I was in a position of usefulness and 
influence, and I had no desire to leave it. 
But in the fall of 1884 there came a demand 
to which I was compelled to yield. In 
October of that year, at a special Convention 
held at St. Peter's Church in Baltimore, 
after protracted balloting lasting for some 
three days, I was elected to be the sixth 
Bishop of Maryland. It was an utter sur- 
prise. I had not sought it, and I can most 
truly say I did not desire it. But the dio- 
cese had been without a bishop for two or 
more years, and Convention after Conven- 
tion had been unable to complete an election. 
And these facts seemed to make the call im- 
perative. 

There were some things of interest in that 
election. Up to that time the Church in 



136 BEMINISCENCES 

Maryland had been sadly disturbed by the 
strifes then prevailing between what were 
known as the high Churchmen and the low 
Churchmen. In preparation for that Con- 
vention, one of the two parties, the one which 
was much the stronger, held a caucus, in 
which they agreed upon certain points; 
namely, that the one elected must be a south- 
ern man, born south of Mason and Dixon's 
line; that he must be not over forty-five 
years of age ; that he must be a low Church- 
man ; and that he must not be one now in the 
diocese, for, if so, and if he were a man of 
any force, he would not be able to heal the 
divisions because he must have taken part in 
some of the vexed questions and debates. 
But when the election was completed all 
these caucus agreements were broken. The 
one they chose was a northern man, born 
and brought up in New York ; was fifty-nine 
years old, instead of only forty-five ; was not 
a low Churchman, but an old-fashioned con- 
servative high Churchman; was already in 
the diocese, and for eight years had taken 
active part in all the debates. 
Another incident may be of interest. The 



REMINISCENCES 137 

ladies of Epiphany Parish, of which I was 
rector, had provided for me, from Europe, 
a very full outfit of Episcopal robes and 
necessities, and had presented them with 
the request that I w T ould wear them at my 
Consecration, to which I agreed. But soon 
after came a letter from the family of Bishop 
Whittingham, a former Bishop of Mary- 
land, saying that they still had one set of 
his robes, and they wanted to present them 
to me with the understanding that I would 
wear them at my Consecration. And they 
enforced their request by saying that they 
knew I was that Bishop's choice for the suc- 
cession, he having once said that it was his 
wish and prayer that I might some day be 
Bishop of Maryland. I did not wear the 
grand new English robes at my Consecra- 
tion, 7 but, thinking of Elijah and Elisha and 
their mantle, I wore the very old-fashioned 
and much worn robes of Bishop Whitting- 
ham. 

The long vacancy in the Bishop's Office 
had left room for many irregularities; and 
my first years as Bishop gave me much to 

7 January, 1885. 



138 REMINISCENCES 

do in " setting in order the things that were 
wanting." But, northerner though I was 
by birth, the good southern people received 
me lovingly, and readily conformed to my 
wishes. 

I remember well my first round of visi- 
tations in the southern counties, Anne 
Arundel, Calvert, Prince George's, St. 
Mary's and Charles. It was in July, 1885. 
Through almost all those parts there were 
no railroads, and my two weeks ' continuous 
travel was by buggy, zizgagging from church 
to church. It was still so near the Civil 
War times that the war feelings had not all 
died. To make my first visit to one of the 
churches in Charles County, I had taken an 
early morning drive of some twenty miles, 
and getting out on the green before the 
church, I stood beside a pleasant looking 
country gentleman, who, of course, did not 
recognize me. My immediate predecessor, 
Bishop Pinkney, was a man of very vener- 
able appearance with long gray hair and 
gray beard ; and, I, unfortunately, had then 
not a gray hair on my head. 

The good man said to me, "I thought 



REMINISCENCES 139 

our Yankee Bishop was coming over." 

I knew how he felt, as a warm southerner, 
and I said, "He did come." He said, "I do 
not see him. Where is he?" When I re- 
plied that I w r as the Bishop, putting his 
hands on my shoulders, he gave me a very 
vigorous shove, and said, "See here, young 
man, stop your fooling ! ' ' 

I had asked the vestry to meet me after the 
service, and they did so ; only one was lack- 
ing, and that was the good man on the green. 
But we soon became warm friends. 

At another parish in that neighborhood, 
where there had been a long vacancy, the 
warden, speaking for the vestry, asked me 
to appoint and send a rector to them. 
"But," said he, "there is one thing you 
ought to know. Every man in this parish is 
a Democrat, and in war time every man was 
a Confederate. You must not send us any 
Republican, or any northern man." 

"Why not?" I asked. "I do not choose 
ministers in that way. ' ' 

"It would split the parish in pieces. 
There would not be a man in church in a 
month; not a woman after two weeks." 



140 KEMINISCENCES 

To all his constant urging I refused, say- 
ing that they must choose their own minister, 
that I would not. Some fifteen months 
after, on my next visitation, the same warden 
said, " Bishop, I wish you would say a word 
or two to our minister." 

"What shall I tell him?" 

"Tell him the War is over. He has been 
here a year, and has not preached a single 
sermon without a war story in it. Say some- 
thing to him." 

"No," I said, "you called him here on 
Democratic principles. You must do your 
own talking." 

At my next visitation, the warden said, 
"Well, Bishop, our minister has gone, and 
we want a new one, and we want the Bishop 
to choose him, but not on Democratic princi- 
ples." 

I grew to love the people of those Southern 
Maryland Counties very greatly, and I 
think they grew to love me ; and my almost 
yearly visitations for twenty-five years, made 
me much at home in their houses and in their 
lives. It was not the life of cities and towns. 
There were no cities or large towns in that 



REMINISCENCES 141 

region. It was the quiet rural life, the con- 
tinuation of what had been, before the War, 
the old plantation life. It was pleasant to 
find among them man after man, who had, 
and whose conversation and manners showed 
it, full college training : men from Yale and 
Harvard and Princeton, and the University 
of Virginia. And among the women, the 
hours at the table showed that they had re- 
ceived the advantages of the best schools in 
the country. 

But from the long interregnum in the 
Episcopate, there had grown an irregularity 
and seeming carelessness about the churches 
and the services. The parson, living often 
on the ' i Glebe ' ' of 50 or 100, or 150 acres, and 
getting much of his support from that, was 
obliged to be often both farmer and parson 
in one, and the farmer's duties interfered 
with those of the parson. Many of them 
held only one service on Sunday, and, except 
on great days, no week day services at all. 
It was thought too much for the people to 
take too often the long drives to church that 
were necessary, and if a rainy Sunday came 
often neither parson, nor people thought it 



142 EEMINISCENCBS 

necessary to open the church at all. I re- 
member one occasion when having an ap- 
pointment at one of the churches in the fields, 
the day appointed proved quite stormy. I 
had spent the night before with the rector 
of an adjoining parish, and when I said it 
was time to start he expressed his surprise at 
my thinking of it, saying I would find no one 
at all at the church. I insisted, but his 
words proved true. We arrived only some 
ten minutes before the hour appointed. 
There was no sign of life, and the church 
doors were locked. We waited until a few 
moments after the hour, then drove around 
the church, leaving our tracks in the light 
snow which had fallen, and after tacking my 
card on the door, we went away. 

There were several like instances. I was 
to visit and confirm at one of the oystermen's 
chapels on the Chesapeake. The night be- 
fore I had spent with one of the oystermen 
near a like chapel some twelve miles distant. 
The morning brought a heavy drenching 
rain and violent wind. My good host pro- 
tested that I ought not to go (by sail-boat) 
in such weather, but I went. We arrived at 



KEMINISCENCES 143 

the place at the time when it had been agreed 
that someone was to meet me on a point of 
land about a mile from the chapel. There 
was no one there, and it was raining hard. 
Sending back those who had brought me, I 
made my way to the chapel, picking up a boy 
on the way. The doors were locked. I sent 
the lad for the keys, and he and I made the 
fire and rang the bell. We began the service 
half an hour late, and with some fifteen in 
the congregation who apologized, saying that 
nobody dreamed I would venture out in such 
a storm. 

The isolated position of those churches in 
the fields made another difficulty. Asking 
one rector, whose parish covered nearly 200 
square miles, what Sunday School he had, he 
answered that he had none. The farming 
people living at a distance had their home 
and farm duties, and could not come an hour 
and a half before the service to bring their 
children; neither could they wait so long 
after the morning service. So he had given 
up thought of Sunday School. I protested 
that if I were in his place I would find a way. 
If I could not have one Sunday School at the 



144 EEMINISCENCES 

church as the central point, I would have 
four or five neighborhood schools, and so 
reach all. I would find some earnest com- 
municant, man or woman, who besides his, 
or her, own children, would gather at the 
house a few children on Sunday afternoons, 
teaching them after my advice and direction, 
with an occasional visit from myself. After 
full study together he followed my advice, 
and two years later he was able to tell me 
that he had five Sunday Schools with seventy 
scholars. I urged these neighborhood Sun- 
day Schools also in some others of the large 
rural parishes, and always with excellent re- 
sults. 

I might give many amusing incidents of 
my life and work as Bishop, but a few must 
suffice. Some of them I have told so often 
that they will seem old stories ; and in record- 
ing some of them now I will not attempt to 
give them in order of time and occurrence. 
I tell them only as they come to my remem- 
brance. 

Among memories of pleasant hospitalities, 
there is one experience which has often ap- 
peared in print, but distorted and incorrect. 



REMINISCENCES 145 

I think of a visit in one of the good old fam- 
ily residences in Southern Maryland, where 
the sad results of the war had made it im- 
possible to keep up all its former state. As 
I came down early in the morning, my kind 
hostess asked what I would like for break- 
fast ; and I said that my memories of my sup- 
per were so pleasant, that I was sure any- 
thing she offered would be delightful. But 
she insisted, and I suggested boiled eggs, 
moderately soft-boiled about four minutes. 
But she had told me the day before that they 
had neither clock nor watch in the house, but 
could tell the time of day very closely by 
looking at the sun, or sky. So I proposed to 
go to the kitchen with her and mark the four 
minutes. But she said, "I do not boil them 
that way. Perhaps you have noticed that I 
sing a great deal. I always sing when I am 
at work, whatever the work may be. And I 
have noticed that when I am boiling eggs, if I 
take my favorite hymn, ' Just as I am,' and 
sing it all but one verse, the eggs will be very 
soft. If I sing it all and one verse over, they 
will be quite hard. I think I will give you 
about the whole hymn." 



146 REMINISCENCES 

I asked permission to go with her and see. 
When the water came to boiling, she put in 
the eggs, folded her hands, and looking up 
sang the hymn somewhat slowly; and the 
eggs were done to perfection. But alas! a 
few hours later, at the service in the church, 
the first hymn sung was that same " Just as 
I am," and my thoughts were somewhat 
mixed. 

On a visitation in St. Mary's County, after 
the morning service, a lunch was enjoyed un- 
der the grand oak trees in the churchyard. 
As it drew near the close, a bright looking 
middle-aged colored man asked to speak to 
me. He said, ' ' Bishop, I heard your sermon 
this morning ; a mighty good sermon ; it did 
me a heap of good." And in answer to my 
question he told me the text, and gave a fair 
idea of the substance of what I said. He 
added, "I heard your sermon yesterday." 
"But I was twenty miles away." "I was 
there," he said, "and that was a grand good 
sermon." And again he gave me the text 
correctly. "Bishop, I heard your sermon 
the day before." "But I was thirty miles 
away ! " "I was there, ' ' he said, ' ' I Ve been 



EEMINISCENOES 147 

following you up"; and again he gave the 
text correctly. "Now, Bishop," he said, 
"them are what I call stayin' sermons. 
That kind of a sermon stays with a man ; it 
sticks to him, he can't shake it off; he can't 
get rid of it." After a pause he continued, 
"Bishop, I'm a preacher, too." 
' ' Are you ? What kind of a preacher ? ' ' 
"I'm a Methodist preacher, but I can't 
preach that kind of sermon. I preach what 
they call rousin ' sermons. I do wish I could 
preach some stayin' sermons. Now, see here, 
Bishop, you've preached them three sermons. 
You won't want them no more. If you'll 
only give them to me I'll give you a quarter 
apiece for them." 

It may be well here to say something of 
the Church work among the Negroes. I 
was, from the beginning of my Episcopate, 
greatly interested in it. I felt the great need 
and my responsibility; and I soon found, 
also, the very great difficulties. Yet, with 
many disappointments, the work grew 
slowly, and I found among them some very 
earnest and devout souls. 



148 REMINISCENCES 

My relations with members of the Roman 
Church, including Cardinal Gibbons, have 
been quite pleasant. On one of my visita- 
tions, talking with one of their priests, he re- 
minded me that in old times in Maryland it 
was the custom to speak of the two Churches 
as the " Roman Catholic, and the Protestant 
Catholic/ ' The Cardinal and I often met 
and took part together on many public, or 
charitable occasions, and sometimes in social 
gatherings, and our differing views never 
marred the pleasantness of our intercourse. 

I will allude briefly to another incident, 
which has become somewhat historical. 8 
The Legislature of Maryland had deter- 
mined to erect a monument over the grave of 
Leonard Calvert. That grave was in the 
consecrated churchyard of our parish at St. 
Mary's City, and my consent was necessary. 
I cheerfully gave it. The Cardinal was to 
have had the opening prayers, and I the final 
prayers and benediction. On his way to the 
place the Cardinal was taken ill, and he sent 
a note to me apologizing for, and explaining 
his absence, and saying that he had ap- 

• Norember, 1890. 



REMINISCENCES 149 

pointed a certain priest to act for him, and 
had given him the prayers he had prepared. 
There was a very large gathering of peo- 
ple. But the first speaker, a member of the 
Roman Church, went out of his way to make 
a bitter attack on the Church of England; 
and claiming for the Roman Church all the 
credit for religious liberty and freedom of 
conscience in the United States, because the 
charter which secured religious liberty was 
given to Calvert, a Roman Catholic noble- 
man of the grandest pattern of Christian 
character. The next speech was by an 
eminent lawyer, a member of our own 
Church; but stirred up by the former speech 
he retorted with some bitterness. When the 
time came for me, having secured the prom- 
ise that those of the Roman Church would 
unite with us in saying the Lord's Prayer 
and the Creed, I prefaced the prayers by a 
very few words; saying I was sorry there 
should be any disagreement about giving 
credit for the blessing of religious liberty. 
I did not think it belonged exclusively to any 
one Church or denomination. If the 
Roman Church might rightly claim some 



150 KEMINISCENCES 

part in it, so could the Quakers of Pennsyl- 
vania, and the Baptists in Ehode Island. 
And it should be remembered that if the 
Maryland Charter ensuring such liberty was 
given to a Roman Catholic nobleman, it was 
given loy an Anglo-Catholic king. And 
granting all that might be said about the 
noble Christian character of Calvert, it 
should be remembered that that character 
was formed in the Church of England, 
where he was baptized, taught and con- 
firmed. 



THE DIVISION OF THE DIOCESE 



CHAPTER IX 

THE DIVISION OF THE DIOCESE 

The time came when the Diocese of Mary- 
land had grown too large for the labors of 
one bishop, and I asked for a division which 
would make the important City of Washing- 
ton a Bishop's See. But I made it a condi- 
tion that each of the two Dioceses should 
raise $50,000, as an endowment to avoid bur- 
dening the parishes with taxation. Wash- 
ington promptly did its part, but Baltimore 
did not. The Committee appointed, at first 
very sanguine of success, at last reported to 
me that they could raise only $20,000 ; and as 
the only hope, they asked that at a certain 
business office I would meet twenty or thirty 
of the leading Churchmen and try to urge 
them. I named Thursday, at 2 p. m. 9 On 
Tuesday I sat in my office, somewhat de- 
spondent, and feeling that I was going to de- 

» March, 1895. 



154 EEMINISCENCES 

feat, when, most unexpectedly, I heard that 
by the death of Eversfield F. Keerl, which 
had occurred that day, the sum of $90,000, 
held in trust by a firm of New York bankers, 
would fall unconditionally to the Diocese of 
Maryland. 

The burial was to be on Thursday at two 
o'clock, the hour I had named for meeting 
the laymen. But not waiting for that, I tel- 
egraphed for information to the New York 
bankers, saying that an answer was imper- 
atively needed before noon of Thursday. 
At noon on Thursday, no answer as yet. At 
one, no answer. At one-thirty, no answer. 
At two o'clock a message, "We hold in trust 
for the Diocese of Maryland, at par values 
$97,500." Taking that and the extract 
from the will I had secured, I had just time 
to meet my appointment with the laymen ; a 
coincidence of time to the minute. Asking 
them to speak first, one of the bankers told 
me of the panic which made people slow to 
give money. Another talked about their 
disapproval of endowments. Then I said 
something like this: "Well, gentlemen, this 
is the only instance in which there seems to 



REMINISCENCES 155 

be a disagreement between the laymen and 
myself. It shall not make any trouble. If 
you will not yield to me, I will cheerfully 
yield to you. But last week there were only 
two parties to this question. Now a third 
one has come in. That one is God. You do 
not believe in endowments; He does. You 
say it is impossible to raise it. Things im- 
possible to men are possible with God; and 
He has provided it. I showed the two pa- 
pers, the extract from the Will, and the 
bankers' telegram, and they agreed that the 
Diocese should be divided. 

Then came another wonderful coincidence. 
The New York bankers wrote me a few days 
later that the market value of the fund was 
$101,000. And out of this my legal advisers 
estimated there would be about $5,000 for 
commissions and other expenses. At my 
meeting with the laymen one of them showed 
that instead of $50,000, we would need $64,- 
000 to make up for our loss in annual income 
by the going off of the new Diocese. Now at 
our next Convention, it was voted that we 
would give to the New Diocese one-third of 
all our invested funds up to the time of its 



156 REMINISCENCES 

full establishment. From $101,000, take 
$5,000, and we have $96,000, of which one- 
third would go to Washington and two- 
thirds remain with us. And two-thirds of 
$96,000 would be $64,000, the exact amount 
we needed. These coincidences, in time, to 
the minute, and in money to the dollar, are 
so wonderful that it would be hard to doubt 
that it was God's will that the Diocese should 
be divided. 



THE DIVISION OP THE DIOCESE 

(Continued) 



CHAPTER X 

THE DIVISION OF THE DIOCESE, CONTINUED 

I have found it impossible, in noting these 
remembrances, to keep to anything like 
chronological order ; and I must group with- 
out order of time, some matters not yet fully 
touched upon. I have alluded too briefly to 
some things connected with the division of 
the Diocese. When I was consecrated as 
Bishop, January 8, 1885, the Diocese of 
Maryland included both all of Maryland 
west of the Chesapeake Bay, and also the 
District of Columbia, including the City of 
Washington. It had 162 clergymen, 130 
fully organized parishes or congregations, 
and 10 mission stations and chapels. 

Although the Canons do not require that 
the Bishop should visit all oftener than 
once in three years; yet the very long inter- 
regnum in the bishopric seemed to call for 
something more, and I began by making a 



160 EEMINISCENCES 

complete round of the Diocese every year. 
For many years, being then in full bodily 
strength, I was able to do this, and I found it 
a pleasure. It brought me into closer rela- 
tions with all the parishes and their people, 
and quickened my own interest, and helped 
me to develop plans for work. The Church 
life quickly responded to my efforts. The 
numbers confirmed were large ; the number 
of communicants grew steadily. In 1885 
there were reported 22,104 communicants; 
in 1894 the number was 29,918. 

A full visitation of the Diocese required 
that the Bishop should be absent from his 
home for nearly three-fourths of the time ; so 
that there was scant opportunity for study 
and deliberate thought. Besides, with each 
year added to my age my bodily strength 
became less, and I was convinced that the 
measure of work with which I began could 
not much longer be maintained. Two ways 
of solving the problem presented themselves 
to me. One was the lessening of my visita- 
tions; making them once in two years. I 
sent out a letter of inquiry to the clergy in 
the rural parishes, suggesting that change, 



KEMINISCENCES 161 

and asking their advice and wishes ; whether 
they counted an annual visitation a neces- 
sity; whether my coming less frequently 
would harm their work and make the num- 
bers confirmed smaller. From more than 
half the answer was that while the Bishop 's 
visit was a pleasure and a stimulus to clergy 
and people, they would not really suffer by 
having him come once in two years. And 
yet quite a number seemed to think the more 
frequent visitations would be much more 
helpful. 

I turned then to the other plan, the di- 
vision of the Diocese. But before making 
any decision of my own, I again tried to find 
the judgment and wish of the Diocese at 
large. The general impression was in favor 
of division, if the money problem could be 
met (in the support of two bishops and two 
full working organizations instead of one) . 
Besides, it was felt that the City of Wash- 
ington, large in itself and important as the 
Capital of the Nation ought to have its own 
resident bishop. Several years passed after 
the first suggestion before it took shape in a 
definite proposal in my address to the Dio- 



162 REMINISCENCES 

cesan Convention. There was some slight 
opposition, but after very full discussion it 
was determined by an almost unanimous 
vote, that a division should be made. 

But on what lines? Some of the clergy 
and people of Washington wanted that that 
City, by itself alone, should form the Dio- 
cese. But the feeling was strong that both 
for its own sake and larger life, and for the 
help of the weaker country parts, it should 
have some work and sympathy for those be- 
yond. Others proposed the Patuxent Biver 
as the dividing line, but the final agreement 
was to give to the new Diocese, just the ter- 
ritory included in what had been known as 
the Convocation of Washington. 

One of the very pleasant things in this di- 
vision was the loving spirit shown through- 
out, and especially in the resolution unani- 
mously passed, that we should give to the 
new Diocese, which took less than one-third 
of the territory, one-third of all our invested 
funds up to the day of the organization of 
that Diocese. It was an act of loving lib- 
erality never equaled, before or since, in any 
such separation. The mother Diocese sent 



REMINISCENCES 163 

out its daughter, not weak, but richly en- 
dowed; having, with its own contributions, 
an endowment for its Episcopal fund much 
larger than that of the mother Diocese. 



THE CHURCH'S WORK FOR THE 

MASSES 



CHAPTER XI 

THE CHURCH'S WORK FOR THE MASSES 

Among the noteworthy things, during my 
many years of work in the holy ministry, 
were the practical proofs in refutation of a 
popular charge against us, that the Church is 
for the more intelligent and refined, and not 
for what are called the masses and the poor. 
A few instances out of many may be given. 

The village of Alberton, about an hour's 
ride by railroad out of Baltimore, is strictly 
a manufacturing village. All the property 
of every kind, is owned by the proprietors of 
the cotton mills. Nearly all the inhabitants 
are either laborers or officers in the mills. 
Thinking that among them there must be 
many English families, I tried to make some 
provision for their spiritual needs. I sent 
a young man whose enthusiasm soon found 
a way to their hearts. Many children and 
some adults were baptized, and a helpful 
Sunday School was established in a room of 



168 KEMINISCENCES 

the factory buildings. After a year of such 
work, the two chief proprietors, father and 
son, neither of whom I had ever met, called 
on me with a proposal. They said that they 
felt their responsibility for the welfare of 
their laborers, and they included in that 
their spiritual welfare. To help to that they 
had, several years before, built a good church 
which had been used by different Christian 
bodies. "But now we propose, if we can 
agree as to the conditions, to build a good 
stone church, with a Sunday School room, 
to furnish it, to heat and light it from our 
factories, and to put it, without any charge 
whatever, under your care." 

The conditions were favorable and ac- 
cepted. The church was built, and now for 
many years a minister of the Church has 
been in residence and doing pastoral work. 

A second instance. Hampden, another 
suburb of Baltimore, is occupied almost en- 
tirely by the people of the large foundries, 
and of the cotton mills. A new rector had 
just gone to take charge of St. Mary's 
Church and soon became acquainted with 
the head of the foundry works, a generous 



KEMINISCENCES 169 

man, and an ardent Methodist. This gen- 
tleman, however, was skeptical as to the 
Church's ability to work successfully among 
the laboring classes, and for sometime held 
aloof. But after a year had passed, the 
positive and kindly work of the rector 
proved successful. The church, of stone, 
seating about 300, was soon filled to over- 
flowing; and the head of the works asked 
the rector to call again. He said, " Per- 
haps I was mistaken in what I said before to 
discourage you. They tell me you are 
reaching our people, that your church is 
always full and not large enough ; and that 
you need and want a larger one. How large 
do you want it?" The answer was, "A 
church to seat a thousand. ' ' 

"Can that church be enlarged?" 

The clergyman said he was himself a prac- 
tical architect, and it could be enlarged at a 
cost of fifteen thousand dollars. 

"If I give you ten thousand, can you raise 
the rest?" 

The clergyman said he could; the money 
was given and the church enlarged to hold 
one thousand. 



THE MARYLAND THEOLOGICAL 

CLASS 



CHAPTER XII 

THE MARYLAND THEOLOGICAL CLASS 

One of the happinesses of my Episcopate 
I found in my " Maryland Class of Theol- 
ogy. ' ' I had become dissatisfied with the in- 
fluences of the theological seminaries. If 
I sent students to the General Seminary in 
New York, and any of them proved really 
good, they were stolen from me by some of 
the New York churches which could offer 
them things more attractive than they could 
find in Maryland. Or if they came back to 
me, I found they had become used to ways 
and associations of city life and work, and 
were not fitted for the harder and heavier 
work needed in our country parishes. And 
remembering the great advantages to myself, 
as a student, in the close association with my 
own Bishop De Lancey, I determined that I 
must have for my candidates Maryland men, 
trained in Maryland, and for Maryland, and 



174 KEMINISCENCES 

under my own personal influence and watch- 
fulness. Some six well qualified clergymen 
of the Diocese promised and gave me their 
help. We began with eight or nine young 
men. The place for lectures was in my res- 
idence, or the Library adjoining. And I 
was more than satisfied with the results. 10 
The small number of students permitted each 
to be brought into closer touch with the in- 
structors. 

During the few years for which I was able 
to continue the School it prepared about 
twenty young men for their holy duties. 
With perhaps only two exceptions, all 
proved eminently useful, and two or three 
of them went on to reach remarkable schol- 
arship. But when the Diocese of Washing- 
ton was set off from Maryland, it took not 
only one-half or more of the money which I 
was able to use for the School, but more than 
half of my supply of young men ; and I was 
most reluctantly compelled to close the 
work. 

10 Bishop Paret's motto to the members of his Theological 
Class in regard to preaching was : " First, — be sure you 
have something to say. Second, be sure you know how to 
say it. Third, say it. Fourth, stop! " 



REMINISCENCES 175 

Needing a teacher in Hebrew for my 
class, Rabbi Szold, one of the oldest and 
most respected of the Rabbis, offered him- 
self. I protested that he was too eminent a 
man, and I had so little money to offer that 
I was sure he would not accept it. He an- 
swered that he did not want, and would not 
take, a dollar. He was " Rabbi emeritus;" 
laid on the shelf, because of age, and with 
nothing to do, and meeting with some 
young bright minds two or three times a 
week would be a help and pleasure to him. 
At his request I was present at some of his 
lessons. At the first he asked where he 
should begin, and I said I supposed with the 
Alphabet and the Grammar. But he said, 
"No, begin with something from the Bible." 
We took the 23rd Psalm. Opening the 
books for the young men, I offered the book 
to him, but he said that he did not need it. 
And from memory he went through it, teach- 
ing the Alphabet as he went, — giving every 
letter and every vowel point. Then he did 
it again, and gave a beautiful (Jewish) ex- 
position. 

At the next lesson, again he asked me to 



176 REMINISCENCES 

name the passage, and I suggested the 9th 
Chapter of Genesis, and offered him the 
book. But he said he did not need it ; and 
as accurately as before, he repeated twenty 
verses, word by word, and letter by letter. 

At the third lesson, I named one of the 
very dry chapters in the Book of Chronicles ; 
and again he declined to take a book. When 
that lesson was ended, I asked, — " Rabbi, 
how much of that Old Testament do you 
know in this way?" Pointing to his head, 
he said, "From the first verse of Genesis, to 
the last of Malachi, it is all there." And as 
I said it was almost incredible, he told me to 
try him; to open the book anywhere, and 
read two or three verses. I opened at ran- 
dom, somewhere in the Book of Kings, and 
when I stopped reading, he took it up and 
went on without a mistake. The trial was 
made four times and he never faltered. He 
said, "It is not so wonderful ; I am more than 
80 years old, — and that Book has been the 
Book and the work of all my life." "When 
all his teaching was ended, I offered him 
$200, but he absolutely refused to take it; 
and all I could do was to get from England 



REMINISCENCES 177 

three or four rare volumes which he prized. 

The money for the expenses of my Theo- 
logical Class came in one of the remarkable 
ways which I must call Providential. The 
widow of a clergyman of Washington had 
asked my help in selling her husband's li- 
brary. It was a large and a very valuable 
one ; but she wanted to keep it together, and 
not break it up by sale at auction. She 
would gladly let it go for $500. I told her 
that King Hall, our school for training col- 
ored men for the Ministry, had no library, 
and it would be very useful there; and I 
thought that for that use I might raise the 
money. 

Now among my own former parishioners 
in the Church of the Epiphany, there was a 
lady, a very earnest Christian, very rich and 
very generous. And she had told me to call 
on her for help when there was anything im- 
portant. This, however, was the first, and 
only occasion of my doing so. I wrote to 
her, stating the case, and my hope that she 
might be able and willing to make the gift. 
But the very next day there appeared in my 
study three clergymen, warm friends of the 



178 KEMINISCENCES 

Theological Seminary near Alexandria, who 
protested that I was interfering with their 
efforts ; that the son of the deceased clergy- 
man had offered the library to them for 
$500, and they had raised half that amount, 
and they learned that I was now trying to 
get the books. I explained my position and 
my action, said I would not interfere with 
them, that I preferred that the library should 
go to Virginia, especially as its theological 
tone was such as Virginia much needed. I 
added my own subscription to their list, and 
telegraphed my friend in Washington, that I 
withdrew my request and would write in ex- 
planation. 

The next day came a letter from that 
friend, enclosing a check for $500, and say- 
ing she was just signing it when my message 
arrived, and she would not take it back. I 
must keep it, if not for the use I had named, 
then for my own work in theological educa- 
tion, or for anything else I thought impor- 
tant; and, if she lived, she would repeat it 
on the first day of September for five years. 
After the five years, she passed me in her 
carriage as I was walking, and asked me to 



EEMINISCENCBS 179 

ride with her. I thanked her for what she 
had done in those five years, and told her 
how many men it had helped into the Min- 
istry. 

" Yes," she said, "the five years are ended, 
but my life still lasts, and my prosperity, 
and so long as God continues them, you shall 
have that money every year." She lived 
some four years longer. And her generous 
help it was, that enabled me to keep up the 
Maryland Class in Theology. 



AT THE LAMBETH CONFERENCES 



CHAPTER XIII 

AT THE LAMBETH CONFERENCES 

As Bishop of Maryland, I attended two 
sessions of the Lambeth Conference, held at 
the Palace of the Archbishop of Canterbury ; 
all the Bishops of the Anglican Communion, 
English, Colonial, Missionary, Scotch, Irish, 
American, having right to attend. The first 
time was in the year 1888, — Archbishop Ben- 
son, presiding. The session lasted almost 
through the whole month of July, and 
brought me into very near and pleasant re- 
lations with many of the English Bishops. 
There were some incidents worth recording. 
At the session of 1888, I was one of the two 
who had been appointed sometime before to 
make one of the opening speeches in the full 
meeting, on the subject of Divorce. The 
hour had been named to me as on the morn- 
ing of July 2nd. But when the time came, 
there were some serious matters occupying 



184 BEMINISCENCES 

attention, and the Archbishop asked me to 
wait till afternoon. The appointed after- 
noon hour came, and my address was again 
postponed. On the third day of the month, 
again I was told to wait until the next day. 
On that day, at about 3 p. m. the Archbishop 
called for my address. I went forward, not 
to make it, but to offer a protest. I said that 
if my address was worth making, it was 
worth hearing, and at that very late hour, 
after the usual time of adjournment, I saw 
that there were not more than one-third of 
the English Bishops present, and of the 
American Bishops only two. I asked, there- 
fore, that I might be permitted to make my 
address on the morning of the next day, July 
5th, to a fuller house. 

The Archbishop and his Assessors (the 
other Archbishops and Metropolitans) put 
their heads together, and the Archbishop 
said he could not grant my request, I must 
speak then. I was about to decline to speak 
at all, when Bishop Seymour of Springfield 
arose, and walking forward in his usual bold 
manner, said, "Your Grace, the Bishop of 
Maryland has said there are only two Amer- 



EEMINISCENCES 185 

ican Bishops present. In another minute, 
there will be only one, that is himself. You, 
sir, as an Englishman, have perhaps forgot- 
ten what we as Americans love to remember, 
that this fourth day of July is the birthday 
of our national freedom and independence ; 
and we count it our duty to go to-day and 
pay our respects to the United States Min- 
ister who represents our Nation in this coun- 
try. Good day, Sir." 

And out he went. It was somewhat as if 
a thunderbolt had fallen. The Archbishop 
started, recovered himself, smiled, and said, 
"I cannot resist that appeal. The Bishop of 
Maryland may speak to-morrow morning." 

An occasional sparkle of wit sometimes 
enlivened an otherwise dull morning. The 
Bishop of Haiti sent word that he could not 
be present because a great fire had swept his 
city, destroyed nearly all the churches and 
the church property, including his own 
house, all his manuscripts and his library. 
In the sympathy which was at once ex- 
pressed, one of the English Bishops pro- 
posed that as a beginning of a new library, 
each bishop should give a book; and he 






186 KEMINISCENCES 

would see that all such gifts should reach the 
Bishop of Haiti, without any expense to him. 

Another Bishop opposed it, saying he 
knew what the Bishop 's new library would 
be; five or six copies of Home's " Introduc- 
tion,' ' as many of " Pearson on the Creed," 
and of "Paley's Evidences" and the like; 
books of which the giver would gladly get 
rid. "No," he said, "instead of a book, let 
each send him a pound. " 

I agree," said the original proposer. 
It is only the change of a letter. Instead 
of Da librum, it is Da libram. ' ' 

At one of the Lambeth Conferences, my 
wife had accompanied me to London, under 
peculiar circumstances. Her brother had 
been killed, a little while before, in an 
elevator accident. She was in deep sorrow, 
much broken, and the physicians insisted, as 
the best hope that she should take the voyage 
with me. But she consented only on the con- 
dition that she should not make any social 
visits or the like, and that to insure it, I 
would avoid all such for myself. 

As the Conference was about ending, the 
last week in July, the Bishop of Lincoln, 



REMINISCENCES 187 

Bishop King, made a special request. He 
and I, having been nearest in Consecration, 
sat next to each other through the whole ses- 
sion, and walked side by side in every pro- 
cession. He said, most kindly, that he had 
never been for so long a time in close com- 
panionship with any English Bishop. We 
had agreed in our views, in our speeches and 
in our votes, and he was glad that he knew me 
so well. "Now, come and make me a good 
visit. I have just sold the old Bishop 's Pal- 
ace which was inconveniently at some dis- 
tance from the city ; and I have built a new 
one within the Cathedral grounds. The fur- 
niture was moved in only a day or two before 
my coming to London. I want you to be my 
very first guest." Gratifying as this invi- 
tation was, my promise to my wife com- 
pelled me to decline it, even when pressed by 
more than one repetition. 

(I may note here as necessary to the full 
understanding of the following incident, that 
I was one of the four or five American Bish- 
ops at the Conference who refused to make 
any change in their usual costume, and de- 
clined even to put on the Bishop's apron.) 



188 KEMINISCENCES 

On our way northward to York, where I 
had promised to make an address, we were 
compelled to rest at Lincoln for a day; but 
I was determined to keep out of sight of the 
Bishop. The White Hart Inn could not give 
us rooms, but provided for us in one of the 
best private dwellings. I went to the three 
o 'clock service at the Cathedral, and as I was 
going out through the nave, someone asked, 
"Is not this the Bishop of Maryland?" 
"Yes," I said, "but how did you know me?" 
"I am the Chancellor of this Cathedral, I 
was in London all through July, and we no- 
ticed that the same Bishop walked with our 
Bishop in every procession. He told us it 
was the Bishop of Maryland ; and he has been 
telling his great disappointment because you 
were not able to visit him. Come to his room 
in the Cathedral and see him." But I ex- 
cused myself and returned to the house. 
About an hour later, the lady of the house 
was called to speak to someone. It was the 
Bishop of Lincoln seeking me. But she as- 
sured him there was some mistake ; there was 
no bishop there. He went back to the Inn, 
and with their reassurance came again to 



REMINISCENCES 189 

the house asking for me. Again she de- 
clared with great emphasis that there was no 
bishop there. 

"Is there anyone here from the "White 
Hart Inn?" 

"Yes." 

"A gentleman and two ladies'?" 

"Yes." 

"It is a clergyman?" 

"Perhaps so." 

"I think it is the Bishop of Maryland." 

"Oh, no, my Lord, I assure you it is a mis- 
take." 

"Well, it will do no harm ; please show him 
my card." 

She came to me smiling, as if having a 
good joke, and said, "The Lord Bishop of 
Lincoln is downstairs, — and he thinks that 
you are the Bishop of Maryland." 

"And so I am," I answered. 

And with clasped hands, and a look of en- 
treaty, she said, "Oh, my Lord, pray forgive 
me. You know there is nothing about you 
that looks like a bishop !" 

My wife, overhearing it, said, "Now I 
hope you will wear an apron." 



190 REMINISCENCES 

"No," I answered, "I will not be a tailor- 
made bishop. If it takes a tailor to make 
me look like one, I will not look like one, as 
long as I live. I came over American, I re- 
main American, and I will go back Amer- 
ican." 

At another time I wanted to see the Ca- 
thedral at Chester. Calling first at the 
Bishop's house, I was told he was not at 
home. I left a card, and went to the resi- 
dence of the Dean. He also was out of the 
city, and I went to the Cathedral. At the 
entrance the verger met me, and in answer 
to my request for admittance told me it was 
impossible, — that no one could be admitted 
that day. I said that I was from across the 
ocean, and was a bishop, — and it would be 
my only opportunity to see the Cathedral. 
He expressed very politely his regret, but 
said that his orders were absolute, that work 
and repairs were going on within, which 
anyone's presence would interrupt, that he 
would risk losing his place if he violated his 
orders. "Why our own Bishop could not 
get in to-day. No one in England could. 
The King could not." 



REMINISCENCES 191 

So, yielding, I said I wanted the Bishop 
and the Dean to know that I had been there. 
I had left cards at their houses, but to make 
sure, I would leave one with him, and asked 
him to give it to them. The card had not 
only my name, but my title also. As soon 
as he read it, he said, "Are you the Bishop 
of Maryland ? If so, come in. But you are 
the only man in England who can come in 
to-day.' ' 

In answer to my question, "Why?" he 
said, "I will show you." And stopping 
four or five workmen on the way he led me 
to the north transept of the Cathedral, and 
pointing to a large bronze tomb, with the life 
size image of a bishop, he said, "There is 
the reason. We owe that to the Bishop of 
Maryland, Bishop Whittingham. That is 
the tomb of Bishop Pearson who wrote a 
great book on the Creed. And Bishop 
Whittingham was so great an admirer of 
Bishop Pearson and his book, that he raised 
in America the money for this tomb, and 
came over here and found the grave where 
the Bishop had been buried, and had the 
body removed to this place. And the Bishop 



192 KEMINISCENCES 

of Maryland can always get into this Cathe- 
dral." " 

Some three years after the Lambeth Con- 
ference, I was again in London, and in one 
of the underground cars found myself sit- 
ting opposite and very close to Bishop Tem- 
ple, then Bishop of London. Calling his 
attention, I said, "You do not recognize me, 
but I recognize you." "No," he said, — 
"my eyesight has so failed that I do not 
recognize my own brother." I was 
about to name myself, when he said, 
— "Don't tell me who you are, I think I 
recognize your voice." After a little fur- 
ther conversation, he said, — "I think you 
are a bishop, and were at the last Lambeth 
Conference. Did you make an address 
there as appointed on one of the subjects?" 
I answered "Yes." And after a while he 
asked, "Was it the question of Divorce V' 
And when again I said "Yes," he said, 
"Well, the two speakers were the Bishop of 
Bombay and the Bishop of Maryland. You 
are not Bombay, you must be Maryland." 
Presently we compared our two dioceses. 
Measuring mine by miles 200x60, he said, — 



REMINISCENCES 193 

" What an enormous charge ! I have only a 
part of the whole of London, the strictly 
legal part.' ' 

"But, Bishop Temple, how many clergy 
have you?" 

"About 1,300.' ' 

"And I have only 220. Do you person- 
ally know all yours ?" 

"Not a quarter of them." 

"But I do know all mine, have been in all 
their houses, and know their wives and chil- 
dren." 



SOME THINGS ACCOMPLISHED 



CHAPTER XIV 

SOME THINGS ACCOMPLISHED 

One of the clergy recently asked what 
things of special importance had been 
accomplished during my Episcopate. I 
turned the question back upon him ; and he 
named, besides the division of the Diocese, 
first, the bringing back the Diocese to the 
Prayer Book ideal and rule of the early 
confirmation of children ; second, the higher 
standard for the studies and examinations 
of candidates for Holy Orders; third, a 
higher standard for the support of the 
clergy, and especially for those who were 
aged or disabled ; fourth, the opening of the 
Silent Churches ; fifth, the Diocesan Libra- 
ries; sixth, the work of the Bishop's Hun- 
dred Helpers; 11 seventh, the Washington 

11 "Hundred Helpers"; an organization of one hundred 
women pledged to contribute $5.00 each to the Bishop when 
notified of the death of a clergyman leaving a widow insuffi- 
ciently provided for. 



198 REMINISCENCES 

Cathedral; eighth, the Cathedral in Balti- 
more ; ninth, the disappearance of old party 
lines and bitter divisions between high 
Churchmen and low Churchmen. 

I take them in the order thus named. 

My first general idea of the Bishop's work 
was that which St. Paul gave to Titus as 
Bishop of Crete; "That thou shouldst set in 
order the things that are wanting, and or- 
dain elders in every city"; correcting and 
inspiring the Church life where it needed 
it, and providing pastoral care for all. And 
I found, as one of the things needing cor- 
rection, a general usage of delaying Con- 
firmation until the sixteenth or seventeenth 
year or later; so that instead of "Children 
brought to the Bishop," they were almost or 
quite adult persons. And the clergy 
thought it a matter to be mentioned with 
satisfaction that there was so large a pro- 
portion of adults in the classes. In one of 
my early rounds I preached, or made ad- 
dresses on that subject in almost all the 
churches; reminding them of the Prayer 
Book command that "Children should be 
brought so soon as they are able to learn the 



REMINISCENCES 199 

Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Com- 
mandments," and can answer the other ques- 
tions in the Catechism. And soon I saw 
the result in the large number of children 
from twelve to fourteen years of age. 

Out of my work in the Maryland Class of 
Theology came my wish for a higher stand- 
ard of preparation for the Ministry. I 
found that in every seminary thorough fa- 
miliarity with the English Bible was not 
secured ; and I made that the first requisite. 
I requested of the Examining Chaplains that 
without being needlessly severe, they should 
be thorough, and not pass any who did not 
fairly come up to the right standard. I 
soon found that the candidates coming from 
the seminaries complained that our exam- 
inations were more severe than those to 
which they were accustomed ; and that some 
students, more anxious for getting through 
than for being thoroughly furnished, tried 
to evade our examinations by being trans- 
ferred to other dioceses. 

I hope and pray that the Maryland stand- 
ards may not be lowered. I am sure that 
even though improved, they are by no means 



200 REMINISCENCES 

so severe as those required in the schools of 
medicine and of law. I look back upon the 
results in those who during my twenty-five 
years have been ordained in this Diocese, 
with much satisfaction. While there were 
two or three cases in which their work in the 
Ministry disappointed me, all the others 
proved themselves "Able ministers;" and 
some of them rose to eminence. 

At the beginning of my Episcopate the 
salaries of the country clergy were very low 
indeed, averaging only about six hundred 
dollars. But kindly conference between the 
Bishop and the vestries proved helpful, 
though there were some troublesome things. 
For instance, when from funds at my con- 
trol I had added one hundred and fifty dol- 
lars to the salary of one who was receiving 
only five hundred dollars, the vestry seemed 
to think that amount too large, and at once 
cut off one hundred and fifty from the 
amount they had been paying. Still, little 
by little, the general standard was raised; 
and now the Convention has by vote named 
one thousand dollars as what should be the 
minimum for a married priest. 



KEMINISCENCES 201 

In 1885, the year of my consecration, the 
largest sum paid in Maryland for the relief 
of a clergyman aged or disabled, was three 
hundred dollars, but the people of the 
Church responded so readily to our state- 
ments of the need that now we find ourselves 
able to grant five hundred or six hundred 
dollars. 

The story of the Silent Churches is to me 
a very pleasant one. I found, in my first 
year, that there were fourteen churches in 
the Diocese, in which for more than a year 
there had been no resident pastor, and no 
provision for worship or for Sunday School. 
Preaching on the subject of Diocesan Mis- 
sions, in one of the larger churches in Wash- 
ington, I mentioned that fact; and then, 
with a sudden impulse, looking up from my 
manuscript, I said, "Do you know that with 
the very little the people themselves could 
do, and what our Committee of Missions 
could give, an additional three hundred dol- 
lars would keep one of those Silent Churches 
open for a year? And when I know that 
some of you spend more than that on the 
wages of a single servant not really needed, 



202 REMINISCENCES 

or for a single social entertainment, I won- 
der whether there is not someone in this con- 
gregation who covets the luxury of opening a 
Silent Church.' ' 

Three days after the rector of that 
church brought me a letter written by a 
lady who did not give her name, saying that 
in her journey she reached Washington on 
Saturday, and, obeying her conscience, 
rested there on Sunday to pay her duty to 
God in worship ; that she heard the Bishop 's 
story of the Silent Churches, and she cov- 
eted the luxury of keeping one of them 
open. Three one hundred dollar bills were 
enclosed. 

The next Sunday the rector read that let- 
ter to his congregation, and suggested that 
someone might follow the example. There 
were two responses of two hundred dollars 
each. I told the story in several of our 
stronger churches, with good result, and 
asked for the formation of a Guild or Soci- 
ety to help the Bishop in this or in any other 
work for which he should have urgent need. 
The Bishop's Guild, of women, was soon or- 
ganized. Its contributions for the first 



KEMINISCENCES 203 

year, about twelve hundred dollars, were 
given to the Bishop's Theological fund. 12 
Since that time, by the Bishop's request, it 
has given to the Silent Church fund, a yearly 
sum of nearly always one thousand dollars. 
The Maryland Branch of the Woman's 
Auxiliary gives three hundred dollars a year 
or more. And now all the churches which I 
found closed have been made vocal again; 
while the fund is still needed to keep them 
and others from relapsing into silence. 

I found at my coming a Bishop 's library 
of about nine thousand very valuable vol- 
umes of doctrinal and historical theology; 
the gift of Bishop Whittingham, to be (us- 
ing his own words) "for the use of the 
Bishop of Maryland and his successors for- 
ever." 

It was admirable for the use of the Bishop 
and the more studious of the clergy, but not 
for general use. It was open to visitors 
from ten till four o'clock, but only as a li- 
brary for reference, and not for circulation. 
Thinking of the clergy in the rural 
churches, their few books, and their distance 

12 This was before the Diocese of Maryland was divided. 



204 REMINISCENCES 

from libraries, I began the formation of a 
lending department whose books should be 
lent to clergymen at their request, without 
charge, we paying the charge of sending 
them (but not of return) by express or mail. 
This collection grew rapidly by gifts and 
purchases until now our combined " Dio- 
cesan Libraries' ' number some thirty thou- 
sand volumes, and are proving themselves 
very useful. 

As to Cathedrals, I have not been a 
builder, but only a beginner, in two cases; 
and in both I did not seek the work, but it 
sought me and was, providentially, made my 
duty. About the year 1891 the Rector of St. 
John 's Church, Washington, brought me the 
tidings of a gift offered for Cathedral uses 
in that city. It was not from a person of 
very great wealth, but from a woman, Miss 
Mann, who, by her own work and saving, 
had accumulated a little money. Invested 
in real estate it grew. Being unmarried and 
wishing to live plainly, she offered to give, 
for the endowment of a Cathedral when it 
should be built, property worth about $80,- 
000 or more. 



REMINISCENCES 205 

The laymen of Washington took up the 
idea, subscribed money and received, largely 
by gift, a valuable site 13 for the Cathedral. 
A special act of incorporation was secured, 
and statutes were framed. Soon followed 
a generous offer from Mrs. Hearst, of $175,- 
000 for a building on the Cathedral grounds 
to be known as the Cathedral School for 
Girls. 14 

On the division of the Diocese, I passed 
over the whole property to the Bishop of 
the new Diocese. That Cathedral work 
was the strongest influence for determining 
my choice of the Diocese of Maryland in- 
stead of that of Washington. I felt that I 
did not have the special qualities for a Ca- 
thedral builder. I knew that the task 
would be very burdensome, and that I was 
too old to undertake it, and must leave it for 
younger shoulders. 

In like manner the beginning of a Cathe- 

is The site of the Washington Cathedral, known as the 

Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, is now at Mount St. Alban. 
The foundation stone was laid on the Feast of St. Michael 
and All Angels, 1907. 

I* The Hearst Cathedral School for Girls has since been 

built, and has become one of the best known and most in- 
fluential schools in the Country. 



206 REMINISCENCES 

dral in Baltimore was not by my suggestion. 
Many years before I had been asked whether 
I wanted a Cathedral. I said that I did, if 
I could have it after my own ideas. I did 
not want the five millions proposed for New 
York, and for Washington. I would be 
content with one-third of that sum. I 
should want it placed not in the rich or 
aristocratic part of the city, for the enjoy- 
ment of the wealthy, but among the poor. 
It should be truly a bishop 's church, under 
his control. One-half of the money should 
be used for buildings, and one-half as an 
endowment for the support of the work. 
The seats must be always free ; no pew rents 
or pledges, but voluntary offerings at every 
service, which should be used for missions 
and for charity. The ushers should be in- 
structed to give the best seats to the plainer 
people, and to put those in gay clothing fur- 
ther off. This idea of a Cathedral did not 
meet the popular wish. 

But when, through the wise foresight of 
the Eeverend E. B. Niver, an excellent site 
was selected, and he proposed the matter to 
me, I approved it, and requested him to act. 



REMINISCENCES 207 

By his energy, and that of others, not mine, 
the interest of many laymen was secured, 
money was contributed, and the work begun. 
And again, being in my 84th year, I am too 
old to be the leader in the work, and I leave 
it to one who as younger and more hopeful 
can look forward to some fruition of our 
plans. 15 

In the spring of 1909, being then in my 
83rd year, I saw that I could not longer do 
effectively all the work which the Diocese 
needed ; that the interests of the Church, and 
my own health called for some change; I 
asked for the election of a Bishop Coad- 
jutor. It was readily granted, and the con- 
secration accomplished in the fall of the 
same year. 16 

And the way in which my dear Brother, 
Bishop Murray, has entered on his work has 
most effectively relieved me from all anx- 
ieties, and from the heavier duties. It is 
my purpose to leave to him almost the entire 
control, reserving to myself only some points 

16 Bishop Murray. 

i« September 29th, 1909, at the Church of St. Michael and 
All Angels, Baltimore. 



208 REMINISCENCES 

of ultimate decision, and such parts of the 
work as I find myself able to undertake. 

I am devoutly thankful for a long life 
which has been a happy one, and, I hope, in 
some measure a useful one. I see, as I look 
back, many short-comings and mistakes on 
my part. And in practically laying down 
my task, it is a happiness to me that I can 
leave to my successor a Diocese which, 
though before my election had been torn by 
bitter party dissensions, now for twenty-five 
years has been free from them. And this is 
not as a result of my wisdom and work, but 
entirely through God's wise ordering and 
love. 

A few weeks after the Consecration of the 
Bishop Coadjutor, I carried out my wish to 
leave him for a year in control as the Eccle- 
siastical Authority, so enabling him fully to 
understand and take up his work. And on 
the 21st of October, 1909, with the approval 
of the Standing Committee of the Diocese, I 
sailed for a year's absence in Europe, and I 
write these closing words in the City of 
Naples on the 13th day of March, A. D., 
1910. 17 



REMINISCENCES 209 

it After leaving Naples, Bishop Paret and his family spent 
several months in travel in Italy, Switzerland, Germany, and 
a short time in England, returning to Baltimore the latter 
part of September, 1910. Mrs. Paret, who had been in failing 
health for some time, became much worse soon after her re- 
turn, and after a long illness died at the Johns Hopkins Hos- 
pital in Baltimore, January 15th, 1911. The Bishop survived 
her only two days. Shortly before her death he was taken 
with pneumonia, and passed peacefully away on the 18th of 
January, 1911. 



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